


Make This Chaos Count

by aliciaclarkes



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon, Canon Relationship, Canon Universe, Clexa, Clexa Endgame, Commander Lexa, Delusions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Eventual Smut, F/F, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hearing Voices, Heda, Hero Lexa, Hurt/Comfort, I promise its good, Language, Mount Weather, Post-Mount Weather, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quote: May We Meet Again (The 100), Reapers, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Smut, Violence, Warnings May Change, clarke heals lexa, clarke leaves bellamy, clarke leaves camp jaha, clarke lives in the woods, clarke suffers from flashbacks, end of season 2, fight, give it a chance, itll get there, lexa heals clarke, lexa saves clarke, no niylah, season 2 finale, season 3 episode 1, seeing things, smut in later chapters, start of season 3, the 100 universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciaclarkes/pseuds/aliciaclarkes
Summary: Clarke makes the decision to leave Camp Jaha, a decision made from righteousness in her eyes. As Clarke attempts to survive in the wilderness alone with little to help her survive, she begins to question her morals while losing her sanity. When a group of stray reapers find her stranded, they attack, leaving Clarke to fight for her life...or choose to end her suffering.Meanwhile, Lexa's guilt weighs heavy on her in Polis, making the decision to find Clarke and right her wrongs. When coming across a group of reapers attacking what is seemingly a stranger, Lexa decides to step in, hoping to restore justice to her name. With a group of ravaging monsters against her, Lexa drags the stranger to a stranded building in the distance, latching the doors from within as an attempt to save them both. Lexa soon realizes that her bloodied victim is Clarke Griffin, and they are now trapped within the shell of Mount Weather with no way to escape. Can they cooperate and make amends? Or are they trapped in a steel battle cage?





	1. May We Meet Again

_"May we meet again"_

Those words rang in Clarke's ears like a church bell, their connotation sinking deep within her bones, melting lead into her feet as she walked forward. She knew they may never meet again. None of them will. She knew she may never see Bellamy's ruddy cheeks or her mom's sympathetic eyes ever again. The abandonment of the people she loves hit her in the stomach, a twang of guilt twisting a knot in her throat.

She kept walking.

********************

The dusky pine trees loomed over Clarke as she walked a beaten trail, the sky promising darkness and granting her a warning. Her blonde hair began to mat and tangle against the base of her neck, strands becoming slick with her sweat. Her knees ached and her feet screamed their rawness through her boots, begging the girl to stop and rest. Clarke shook her head, squeezing her eyelids shut and blacking out the world before her. 

Rest meant despair for Clarke. Voices and shadows of the lives taken by her hands haunted her through the nights. The night sky only promised restlessness to Clarke, making it hard to fall asleep. However, Clarke knew that if she continued to hike without letting her body heal through the night, her shoes may fill with blood by tomorrow morning. 

Begrudgingly as ever, the blonde searched for shelter among the dense trees towering over her. She would have to settle for a small patch of pine needles hidden among a lush acre of bushes, protecting her from the elements and providing a stealthy hiding spot. 

Clarke sat with her back leaned against the base of a tree, her heart beating frantically and her lungs heaving. Clarke had no supplies, no weapons, and no food. Her absence from Camp Jaha was impulse at best, providing the girl with no means of survival. Realization of vulnerability sunk into Clarke's skin, pulling the light bulb's chain in her head. 

"Dammit," Clarke whispered to herself. Through her desperation to escape her pain, Clarke never thought her oversight could be her downfall. Usually a careful planner, the blonde felt defeated already. 

_"It's okay, Clarke. Maybe it's fate to starve to death."_  

A soft, wispy voice entered her head. Though innocent, it sounded strained, verging on tears. It sounded light, as if the person speaking held sunshine in their hands. 

How innocent the voice of a child sounds, even in death. 

Clarke gasped, realizing the voice currently burdening her was the voice of a child from Mount Weather. A child she killed with a nervous look and a tight pull of her hand. 

"Please," Clarke whispered back, pleading with the voice that it leave her alone. The blonde's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, pounding on the walls of her eyelids, begging to be released. Clarke desperately tried to keep her pain at bay, refusing to show her weakness.

As Clarke held her breath, ears straining, she determined that the voice had gone temporarily. Clarke shook her head, trying to regain focus. 

She sat against the tree with her legs out in front of her, the soles of her boots facing the dense wood before her. Clarke sniffled and brought her right leg up into her lap as she began untying her laces. The blonde peeled off her black military boot, presenting a white sock turned brown. 

"Shit," Clarke exclaimed to herself. She had no way to heal the blisters she was sure had ripped open. She also had no way to disinfect the wound, creating another world of problems for her. It was too early to experience these kinds of roadblocks, though Clarke already made up her mind: she was never going back. 

Slowly, she inched her sock down her foot, biting her lip as the fabric stuck to her open wounds. Sharp, stinging pains rocketed up Clarke's leg, though she continued to pull her sock off. With the dirtied sock now at her toes, Clarke could see the extent of the damage under the unwavering moonlight above her. 

Her pale foot was littered with bruises and blisters, mostly along the side and heel of her foot. The girl made it a mission to find a clean source of water the next day in the hopes it would ease the pain and clean the wounds. For now, Clarke decided to leave her skin bare, allowing it to get air while she relaxed and entered a long, tiring night. 

********************

_"Clarke. Clarke wake up."_

Clarke's blue eyes fluttered open only to be met with more darkness. Her bones felt stiff, her back tense from her upright position. She looked around slowly, attempting to find the source of the voice in her head. 

In front of her sat a young girl. She was dressed neatly, a refined taste, with her brown hair pulled back around the edges, illuminating her face and defining her young features. Clarke guessed she was no more than fifteen, sixteen at best. The girl sat politely, her knees stacked and leaning to one side with her feet kicked out beside her, as she wore a loose dress. Her slim fingers fiddled in her lap, the nails clean and unbitten, unlike Clarke's. 

Clarke blinked her eyes, not sure if the apparition before her was real or imaginary. 

"I am as real as you are," the girl said, a smirk finding its place on her lips. She saw Clarke's disbelief and distress. 

"W-who are you?" Clarke asked in a sleepy voice. She began to sit up a little straighter, trying her best to wake up as her eyes burned. Her brain felt fuzzy, a feeling she had been getting a lot lately. She shook her head. 

"How rude of me to not introduce myself," the girl said, eyes fluttering to meet Clarke's. "Though, I don't know if that's necessary. I can only stay for a minute." 

Clarke watched the girl intently, trying to determine the truth of the situation before her. She hadn't seen any signs of life besides the occasional animal track thus far, and there was very little chance a young, clumsy girl like the brunette before her wouldn't get even a stroke of dirt on her somewhere. 

"You see Clarke, I thought it unfair that you got to sleep. Why should you sleep when I can't?" Clarke felt uneasy, her stomach churning at the comments of the teenager before her.

"Why can't you sleep?" Clarke asked tentatively, attempting to gauge the intentions of the girl. 

"Sleep used to be one of my favorite things. The way it heals your body, the way it lifts your soul. It feels good to sleep. I miss that. Maybe you should miss that too. Shall we give it a try?"

Before Clarke could respond, the hazel eyes of the stranger turned wicked, her smirk melting into a devious grin, as her skin began to peel from her bones, charring and erupting into black ash that melded into the sky. Her fingers clawed at her neck, desperate to escape the burning, her mouth open in a scream that never came out. 

Clarke's eyes widened, kicking and shoving her body back, trying to escape from the burning girl. Her hands desperately tried to grab anything, any leverage that might have been available, with no luck. She had to watch in horror. 

As the girl's body melted away into a bright light of orange flames, the fire tickling the ground beneath her, Clarke realized there was still no sound coming from the girl. No sound from the crackling fire. No smell of burnt flesh. Though panicked, Clarke recognized the apparition as just that: an apparition. 

Suddenly, a sharp scream erupted in Clarke's ears, sharp enough to rattle her thoughts and cause spots in her eyes. Clarke collapsed to the ground beneath her, hands over her ears, attempting to block out the sounds. 

The sounds were coming from inside Clarke's head. 

After a few minutes of excruciating pain, tears freely flowing down the dirtied cheeks of the blonde, the screeching stopped, throwing Clarke back into a world of near silence, with only the crickets to keep her company. 

Clarke gently pulled her shaking knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins and resting her head between her legs. She couldn't stop the tears from coming and she could no longer hide her weakness. She sobbed into her knees, her body shaking, as she waited for the sun to rise. 

********************

The sound of a bubbling stream was music to Clarke's ears. She limped forward, staying clear of any roots and rocks that could cause her to fall, trying desperately to follow the sound of the water. 

Clarke gave up on sleep during the night, succumbing to fear she held for the voices in her head. I deserve it, thought Clarke. Every punishment thrown her way, she deserved. She destroyed relationships, murdered children, chose to commit a sin so vile she wasn't sure she could ever be forgiven. She made that choice to save herself, and to Clarke, that was just the icing on the cake. 

Clarke crested the top of a hill that dropped down into a river bank. Below her feet sat fresh, running water; water so clear she could see the gleaming scales of the fish traveling downstream. A smile illuminated Clarke's face for the first time since Mount Weather, as she felt her stomach clench and growl, desperately in need of food and water. 

Carefully walking down the steep incline was a challenge, though Clarke found that as long as she continued at a slow pace, it caused no pain to her blistered foot. Eventually, she reached the riverbank, hearing the crunch of the tiny pebbles below her boots. 

Clarke sat on the edge of the water, removing both her socks and her shoes and setting them beside her. After standing up, Clarke took a deep breath and moved her way into the cold water, feeling a jolt go through her injured foot. After a few moments, the icy water felt good against Clarke's dirty skin, and she went deeper. 

With her pants now soaked, Clarke paused once she ventured out knee-deep, hoping to heal the ache in her legs. She stilled, watching the water lap against clothes, a cloud of dirt from her skin merging with the water. She looked to her reflection settled on top of the water, the vision of herself blurred as the river moved. She reached her calloused hand outwards, stroking the very top of her reflection, shaking the image further into something unrecognizable. Something reflecting her inner self.

A single tear fell into the river. 

********************

Night fell yet again, the only constant in Clarke's life, and she dreaded what was in store. The blonde moved quietly, through the tall grasses that gathered around her. She was a sitting duck to any prey nearby, and she couldn't afford to be spotted without a weapon. Though maybe that's what she wanted. 

Sitting neatly to the right of her sat a cave entrance. Clarke, cautious as ever, changed her route and adventured to the dirt outside of the cavern. 

Clarke's body was tense as she approached the entrance, peering inside the dark cave, her eyes straining to see possible inhabitants. A roar of thunder cracked against the sky above Clarke. A warning shot. It was about to rain. 

Clarke turned on her heels quickly, searching desperately around her to find the tools needed to build a fire. From what she can remember from the books about Earth she hoarded on the ship, the rains can quickly chill the atmosphere and cause a significant temperature decrease. Clarke didn't want to risk hypothermia when her body was already shaky from malnutrition. 

Fortunately, flat rocks littered the outskirts of the cave, with dry bushes and trees only a few meters from the cave. Harvesting dry kindling as fast as she could, Clarke carried her supplies back to the cave and dropped everything to the ground. 

Even though it took a few tries, Clarke was able to start a small fire by her feet. As the flames kicked upwards, creating a slowly growing cloud of warmth, the rain started outside. The water dripped from the cavern edges outside, while the rest of the forest looked like someone had dumped a bucket down. 

Clarke turned her attention back to the fire, sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, hands reaching out to warm her bruised palms. 

After some time, Clarke noticed that another pair of hands appeared across from hers, palms facing the blonde, mirroring her position. Heart thudding, stomaching dropping, Clarke looked up slowly, unsure of what she could expect. 

A familiar, large chest appeared before Clarke's eyes. A taught throat and large arms settled tightly beneath a white, cotton, long-sleeved shirt came into view soon after. Venturing upwards, Clarke recognized a mop of tangled, black hair. The person before her stared at her intently, a slight smile touching their thin lips. Familiar brown eyes were shined with the light of the fire, holding their warmth. A warmth Clarke knew so well. A gasp was lodged in her throat, her eyes growing wider. 

"Finn?"


	2. Commander of Death

The cave was silent, the air stiff with bated breath. The walls Clarke had spent so long building, brick by brick, tumbled down like dominos in her head, the air escaping her lungs in one swift motion. The boy in front of her felt real and honest. With skin that sheened against the flame in front of them and a chest that rose and fell with each breath, Clarke lost all sense of what was reality. A voice in the back of her head that screamed her delusion was silenced by Clarke’s natural ability to surround herself with empathy; she was suddenly filled with love and heartbreak and a ship of emotions she had fought so hard to capsize.

“Hi princess,” Finn said, a slight smile approaching his lips. His eyes were warm, like always. They drowned Clarke in a rough sea of despair and the girl looked away quickly, attempting to hide the tears threatening to spill.

“Clarke it’s okay. You can talk to me. I know, I know. It’s been awhile, huh?” Finn urged the blonde to engage with him, while every bone in Clarke’s body screamed that this was a trap.

She looked up at the boy in front of her, who sat relaxed against the cave wall with his arms wrapped casually around one knee. “How-how are you here?” Clarke asked, her voice deep and scratched from her days of silence. She cleared her throat as a slight blush approached her cheeks. Finn only laughed.

“I thought it was about time I paid you a visit. Catch up, maybe.”

Clarke felt guilt creep up into her throat, accompanying the bile she felt burning in her chest. “But I-”

“I know. Trust me, there's no way I could've forgotten. You stabbed _me_ , remember?” Finn only chuckled, his laugh reaching the corners of his eyes.

Clarke nodded her head, a single tear escaping. She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.

“You know, Clarke. You don’t have to look at me, but it doesn’t mean _I’m not here_. I’m as real as you are,” Finn said, his voice growing deeper, more serious.

“You aren’t here, you aren’t here,” Clarke whispered to herself under her breath, her eyes averted and shut tight. Crescent moon imprints formed against the palms of her hands as she buried her nails into her calloused skin.

“Oh, but I am,” Finn said. He leaned forward towards the fire, staring down Clarke like a lion awaiting a kill. “I _am_ here. I _am_ real. I was real when you kissed me that night and I was real when you plunged that fucking knife into my stomach.” A growl crept into Finn’s voice, growing angrier as he recounted the scene in his head.

Clarke whipped her head up, tears freely flowing, her voice cracked and shaking. “I did it to save you, Finn! Lexa was going to kill you however she wanted, I couldn’t let you suffer.”

Both of them held their breath. Finn chuckled, a haunting, throaty laugh, throwing his head back before looking at Clarke with fire in his eyes.

“Why is it that everything you touch dies? You wilt everything in your path, Clarke. Including the ones you love.” Finn looked away and shook his head, gathering his thoughts as his anger began to boil over. He snapped his head back and went in for the kill, a delicate dance between the predator and his prey. “The children you killed were real too, Clarke. Tell me, why did you let _them_ suffer? Are their lives any different from mine? Are they any less human than me? And yet you chose to wipe them out with a slow, painful, agonizing death. As they cried for their mothers, you opened the gates of hell upon Earth’s most innocent creatures with just the pull of your hand.”

Clarke’s mouth was agape. She stuttered, not being able to find the words to defend herself. She knew there were no words that _could_ defend her. She deserved this.

Sobs were caught in the back of Clarke’s throat, her eyes unwavering as she stared at Finn’s devilish smile. Her entire body shook, her chest collapsed, her breathing staggered as she struggled to focus. She only felt panic.

“I hope it was worth it, commander of death,” Finn snarled, before blowing out the fire and leaving the blonde in complete darkness.

Smoke drifted up towards the cavern ceiling, the rain still steady throughout the forest outside. Clarke bit her sleeve and screamed her pain, sobs wracking her body. The girl collapsed on her side, lying against the hard stone of the cave, the cold biting through her leather jacket. She brought her knees up to her chin and tried to keep herself as warm as she could.

She deserved what came to her. A murderer of children shouldn’t be allowed to walk free. Her internal remorse wasn’t enough to right her wrongs, and there was nothing she could do that would stop her visions. The guilt she felt was like a rock in her throat, something that proved hard to swallow and never really went away. Maybe she deserved to waste away. It seemed that Finn was right; everything Clarke touched turned to ash. Everyone she loves dies in the end. No one was safe from her, and as the walls closed in around the shivering blonde, she realized she wasn’t safe from her either.

 ********************

Three days had passed since Clarke’s encounter with Finn. Her visions remained constant, though nothing quite as extreme. Every morning, Clarke ran her slender fingers along her middle, feeling the indents of her hips and each individual space between ribs. Her stomach pleaded for food, anything to give her the energy she needed to keep walking forward.

Every second Clarke went without food, another hour was taken from her life. Her vision had grown spotty, dizzy spells capturing her and sending her falling over every stray branch or pulled root. The girl was littered with cuts and gashes, some deeper than others. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew she couldn’t stop. Inside of her lived a ravaging need to escape her past life, a need to get as far away as she could. And so she did at the cost of her life.

Clarke felt beads of sweat drip down her temples and collect at her chin as the hot sun beat down on her bare skin. It had grown far to hot to wear a jacket during the day, and Clarke had an incident with a jagged rock at the river that left a gaping hole in her upper right arm, causing the girl to rip apart her signature jacket and tie a makeshift tourniquet as quickly as she could. Forgoing a jacket meant colder nights, but Clarke could handle the cold.

After many hours of walking, Clarke’s vision grew spottier, droplets of sweat landing on her lashes. Shaking her head to clear the fog, Clarke saw a clearing in the distance, only a few yards from where she stood. It was placed among soft grasses, a flattened area hidden by tall, shady trees and healthy bushes. The girl smiled to herself, walking forward only to feel her foot trapped by an upturned root. It had been too late, and all Clarke could do was sense herself drop to the ground. Her foot remained locked in the vice of the tree root as she fell, causing a sharp twist of her ankle and a yelp from the collapsing blonde. Clarke couldn’t brace herself, and unintentionally turned her body like a diver, landing on her left shoulder and knocking the air from her lungs.

Clarke gasped, her eyes wide with terror, as the treetops towering above her began to shake and sway in her vision. She closed her eyes, the motion making her nauseous.

With her foot now untangled, Clarke was able to get up; at least able to attempt. She placed her arms to her side and tried to push up from her elbows, only to let out a sharp scream as a searing pain shot through her damaged shoulder. The bone had been bruised, that much was sure. Collapsing back on the ground, Clarke tried to catch her breath.

After a few difficult tries, the blonde managed to lift herself off the ground, limping to the clearing with careful eyes, watching for any other ‘traps’ she may encounter.

Clarke pushed her way through the bushes and settled on top of the soft grasses, feeling the cotton-like texture beneath her fingertips. She breathed in the sweet smell of the flowers and pine trees around her, looking towards the sky and watching the birds fly above her. The winds traveled through the leaves around her, speaking their own secret language. The sun was shining against Clarke’s skin, warmth sinking deep into her bones. The girl breathed deep, the first real breath she had taken in days. She settled in for the night.

 ********************

It was the sharp snap of a twig that roused the blonde, not her usual visitors. Clarke sat upright, eyes focused though her brain remained fuzzy at best. She looked around her, seeing nothing but slivers of light granted by the moon herself. Another snap ricocheted across the forest.

As Clarke looked on, squinting her eyes, she saw an orange glow slowly enter her vision. It was traveling slowly, but shaking, as if someone were holding a torch. The girl rose to her knees, ignoring the searing pain in her ankle. Still hidden among the wood, Clarke saw figures slowly approach her. Leaves crunched under their weight, their bodies limping and lopsided. Clarke stood shakily, pinning her body against the trunk of a tree, attempting to stay covered by the night. The bodies grew larger, walking straight towards Clarke. Her breathing picked up, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. She willed her anxiety to calm with no luck. Instead, she was forced to press her hand against her own mouth, trying her best to stay silent and unseen. As the bodies came into focus, she saw their features clearly under the light of their carried flame. Though appearing human, these creatures were bloodied and limping, their eyes unfocused and dark in their sockets. No words were spoken, though deep, sonorous grunts were made with each step. They walked in a large group in a semi-fashionable line, the leaders holding the torches above their heads. As the line of nearly twenty beings approached Clarke’s makeshift camp, she became panicked and tried desperately to think of an escape route. She recognized these...creatures. She remembered Octavia dragging one back to camp and pleading that Clarke help him.

These were the last remaining reapers, more vicious and more feral than ever as they experienced withdrawal. Without the Mountain Men continuing to pump poison into their own personal Frankensteins, the reapers seemed particularly irate and savage as they approached the defenseless, injured blonde.

Still under the cover of darkness, Clarke decided she needed to escape quickly. She slowed her heart, controlled her breathing, and stepped backwards, only for the heel of her boot to snap a fallen branch behind her in two.

It was like glass shattering at a funeral.

Twenty pairs of eyes looked at Clarke, all bodies stilled momentarily. Clarke’s head began to race. There was no escape. The reapers locked their bodies down, preparing for the hunt.

She ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! Lexa will be entering the picture in the next chapter, so please stay tuned! Remember to leave a comment, bookmark, and leave a kudos! 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	3. Guilty Conscious

_ A sour, acrid smell filled the air, like tanning leather over a flame. A sickly musk settled heavy over the open field like a wool blanket, suffocating everything it touched. Lexa stood in the center of the wildflowers, the wilting petals reaching her hips. Her slender fingers drifted across the tall, colorful plants, dirt and blood caked under her fingernails. Each flower she touched melted away, like a slow heat shriveling paper into nothing but black. She gasped, pulling her hand away, watching a circle of dead wildflowers collapse around her feet. The smell burning her nostrils grew stronger, a sweat starting to break against her brow. When did it become so hot? _

_ Looking towards the distance, Lexa watched as ash rose from the dense grasses up into the sky, taken upwards by the gentle wind: snowing backwards.  _

_ The source of the ash was unknown, so after breaking her attention away from the cloud-white remains of a fire drifting closer to the stars above her, Lexa moved forward through the field. The flowers melted around her like blowing glass, shriveling and winding downwards the closer she got to them, carving a clear path for her to take. She kept her hands to herself this time.  _

_ The wildflowers before her stopped wilting, and Lexa realized she had approached a cliff edge. Creeping forward slowly, the brunette peered over the brink and caught a gasp in the back of her throat, falling backwards into the dirt and desperately crawling backwards on her elbows.  _

_ Below her sat a pit of red fire, burning like lava in a volcano. The fire crashed in waves, licking the tops of the walls containing it. In the center of the pit sat half-eaten bodies: bodies of the Mountain People. Men, women, and children were piled high, their clothes melting into their skin as the unmistakable smell of sulfur and ash grabbed Lexa by her very bones. She couldn’t help them. They were already too far gone.  _

_ She couldn’t save anyone.  _

Lexa woke with a start, her body jolting upwards into a sitting position. Her chestnut hair was curled and damp against her burning skin, droplets of sweat dripping down her spine underneath her sleepshirt. 

Her muscles twitched, her skin itching to rip itself from her bones. She curled her fingers into tight fists at her sides, clutching the furs around her like they were all she had left of her sanity. A knock at the door startled the Commander, a panicked yelp leaving her mouth before she could compose herself. She cleared her throat quickly.

“Come in.”

Titus entered the room, his black robe trailing behind him as his feet made careful steps forward towards Lexa. The room around them was bright as the morning sun invited itself through the sheer curtains. A slight breeze kicked the fabric outwards, blowing in the wind like fall leaves. The candles from the night before were no longer lit, blown out long before Lexa woke. 

Titus could see the black circles deepening around the Commander’s eyes. 

“The same dream, Heda?” Titus questioned, his voice soft yet curious. Lexa closed her eyes and released the strong grip she had on her furs. 

She swung her legs over the side of the large bed, her bare feet hitting the cold, stone floor, emitting a hiss from her lungs. She looked back at Titus, eyes tired and wary. 

“The wildflowers were blue this time,” Lexa grumbled before pushing herself from her bed and walking into her bathroom. Titus didn’t dare follow, which is what Lexa wanted. 

Closing the door behind her, Lexa rested her hands against the cool marble counter top. Water dripped from her faucet occasionally, collecting in the stone basin between her arms. The brunette pulled her gaze upwards, staring at herself in the small mirror above the sink. 

Titus had a right to ask, Lexa thought. She looked awful. Her eyes had sunken deep within their sockets over the past few days. The girl was too anxious to sleep at night, much less eat anything during the day. Her forest green eyes, usually dancing with hidden desires, were shallow and dull, the emotion sucked viciously from them. She brought her shaking fingers up to stroke her cheekbones, feeling the hardness below her thinning face. 

A stray tear pricked at the corner of her eye as she stared at herself, disappointed in what she had become. Her ability to master the look of stoicism was her crowning achievement as Heda, and she lost all of her work with one foul swoop that night. 

The night she betrayed Clarke. 

Lexa balled up her fist and shattered the mirror, a spiderweb of glass stretched across its length, drawing into tight shards towards the center. She looked down at her hand, knuckles red with blood. 

She made no sound as she took one last look at herself before exiting the bathroom. 

“Heda, are you alright? I heard glass,” Titus asked anxiously, his hands wringing together in front of him. Lexa shot him a tight smile, a smile that never reached her eyes. She nodded. 

Lexa stood in front of her open balcony, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the sunlight on her tanned skin. She looked downwards, a sea of tents and shops bleeding into an endless forest. Lexa dropped her gaze to her busted hand, the small streams of blood drying quickly as they moved farther down her fingers. The cuts weren’t bad, though she barely felt them anyway. She barely felt anything anymore. She stroked her knuckles with her other hand, fingers picking at the wound. She looked back towards the forest. 

In every dream she had, every nightmare she encountered, every flashback that knocked her off her feet, there was always one similarity. Always a single constant, the only constant Lexa experienced. 

The stars were always so clear above her, even as destruction happened in her path. It was the last thing she had of Clarke to hold onto, and even in her subconscious mind, she clung to that with everything she had. 

Lexa suddenly turned on her heel and began to frantically look for her armor. 

“Heda, may I ask what you’re doing?” Lexa was unaware of Titus’s presence still in the room, and grew increasingly annoyed as she realized she had no other choice but to tell him her impromptu plan set in place. She stilled her searching hands, looking at Titus standing across the room. “I’m going to find Clarke.”

Titus furrowed his brow, confusion settling on his face comfortably. “Heda,” Titus said, his voice calm but firm. The Commander couldn’t leave her people for this foolishness again. 

“Titus, please. I can’t hear this right now. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t even breathe without feeling like a knife has been plunged into my chest,” Lexa said, her facade slowly chipping away. These were real emotions being handed out on a silver platter, emotions no one had ever seen; no one besides Clarke. 

Clarke had been Lexa’s wildflower. Beautiful, drowning Lexa’s senses, surrounding the Commander in light and warmth and granting the girl a vision of hope for the very first time. In wildflowers was the first time Lexa felt the air enter her lungs again. 

As betrayal and destruction clouded her judgement, the wildflowers began to wilt, taking Clarke with them. Everything Lexa touched turned to ash, including the girl who lit a fire in her heart. She had to find her. She had to try. 

“Love is weakness, Heda. Your feelings for Clarke put both of you in danger. The choices you make...the choices you make show your people you are unfit to rule. A commander’s place is-”

“I am more than capable of separating feelings from duty,” Lexa bit back, her eyes hard with rage. She knew her place as Heda, as commander of her people. She knew the duties of her rule. But with those duties comes responsibility to herself, and she so desperately needed this. She was afraid she would simply cease to exist if she continued living this way. She would just fade away into nothingness. She needed to stop the pain. She needed to find Clarke. 

“I’m sorry Alexa. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Titus offered, head lowered to the ground.

“Yes you did,” Lexa sneered back, gaze unwavering. She straightened, willing her features to soften. “But you also mean well. And I know that...teacher.” 

Lexa hoped that her soothing mannerisms along with her flattering words would help her chances of escape. 

Titus nodded his head, and stood out of the way of Lexa’s wall lined with weaponry, hoping his submissive action was clear to the Commander. He took one last look in Lexa’s direction, his eyes softening with love, before leaving the room completely. 

Lexa baited him. He saw the line and swallowed the hook anyway. His love for her outgrew any concerns he had, and Lexa knew he would cave. She felt no regret. 

Lexa continued to dress as quickly as she could, making sure to adorn herself with light armor that remained tough in combat. She decided against bringing a sword, something out of character for her. Though well trained in one-handed weaponry, Lexa opted for two daggers instead, each with a handle wrapped tightly in thick leather. She sheathed her blades carefully, one on each side of her thigh, before walking out of her room. 

********************

Lexa had forgotten how quickly darkness grew, especially under the tight coverage of trees. A sliver of moon was easily seen through parts in the leaves, guiding Lexa’s every move, making it easier to walk forward. She had a general idea of where she was headed, though no real map or concept of the forest. She figured Clarke would be back at the Skaikru camp, most likely with her mother. She knew her mother was in medicine...maybe she would ask for a medical unit once she arrived? Lexa shook her head, realizing how little she planned for this. Hell, she didn’t even know if Clarke had even _thought_ about her since they parted. Still, she could never live with herself if she didn’t try. 

Lexa felt the ground rise in a gentle incline, her calves starting to feel fire around them. She was forced to scale a few smaller, rocky cliffs, careful to make sure her feet never faltered. One particular climb was more difficult than the others, her arms beginning to burn with overuse. As she climbed, making sure to grab the ledges fully and with purpose, she felt her legs beneath her struggle and shake. She was almost to the top. 

Lexa reached upwards, latching onto a ledge and taking a deep breath. She pushed her bodyweight upwards, locking both of her elbows and forcing her feet to find leverage. She whimpered as her shoulders ached, gritting her teeth as her forearms trembled. With one final push, Lexa was able to swing her left leg up, back to the flat ground her hands were pushing from, rolling her body from the side of the cliff to the familiar forest floor. 

The brunette gasped, sweat dripping down the sides of her face as she lay on her back, eyes towards the sky. The trees granted Lexa a clear view of the stars, letting the girl catch her breath and stare at the unfathomable beauty above her. 

She knew she betrayed Clarke. She knew she did something unforgivable, something she wished she could take back. But every day, through every nightmare and fever dream, Lexa was thankful for her wildflowers. 

She pushed herself off of the ground and continued to walk through the dense wood around her. 

********************

A particular ache settled in Lexa’s bones as her body grew tired from her journey. It felt very similar to the growing pains she had when she was younger. She remembered briefly that she used to beg the gods that she feel those pains every night, for they meant she would grow bigger and taller than the other nightbloods, giving her a fighting chance. She had always been a smaller child, easily tossed to the side in comparison to the others. What she lacked in height, she made up for in strength and agility, proving her worth in other ways over the years. She was quick, known for more agile defenses than most warriors. It also helped that she had a wicked right hook. Lexa smiled to herself as she flexed her right bicep. 

Suddenly, a light in the distance pulled Lexa from her own thoughts. It was hazy, an orange glow illuminating the trees. She crouched, eager to know but unwilling to be seen. She moved forward slowly, watching her footsteps in advance to make sure she stayed silent. As she moved, she found herself behind a larger tree, the base a few inches wider than she was, giving her the perfect opportunity to stand and remain unnoticed. As she stood, she saw another body only a few yards in front of her, standing in a similar position: hiding behind a tree. 

Lexa cocked her head, eyes straining to focus on the dark figure. A sharp fog clouded her vision, her lack of sleep catching up to her at the worst possible time. She tried shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. She thought the figure in front of her had blonde hair, almost golden, lying in waves down their back. Lexa thought herself a fool for seeing Clarke everywhere, even where she wasn’t. Lexa sighed and released her hope, knowing the figure before her couldn’t be Clarke. She was stupid to think, even for a second, that it was. 

The glow grew closer, now recognizable as the burning flame from a carried torch. 

She smelled the reapers before she heard them. 

Lexa had come across her fair share of reapers over the years, finding them scattered among the forest walls. They were brutal and unforgiving, though these reapers seemed a little worse for wear. They seemed agitated already, their black eyes seething with pain and rage. Lexa held her breath. 

The figure in front of her stepped backwards. Before Lexa had time to realize what was happening, a loud _thwack_ rang through the trees like a gong. All of the reapers looked towards the blonde being, a staleness settling in the air. Everything moved in slow motion for a few seconds, every chest empty of breath. 

The blonde figure turn and ran, as well as they could with a noticeable limp. The reapers snarled and charged, flanking the stranger on every side. Lexa punched the trunk of the tree, a shock of pain rolling up her arm into her elbow. She needed to find Clarke. She needed to keep moving before she lost her forever, while every ounce of her being screamed that she save the stranger from their slow and painful death. Lexa growled, frustrated with herself, before turning on her heel and chasing the reapers, right on their tail. 

Lexa saw the stranger limp as fast as they could, and realized they were losing momentum quickly as the reapers only sped up. The Commander’s chest heaved with every breath, her muscles twitching and begging that she slow her pace. She couldn’t slow down if the stranger was to live. 

Mapping the stranger’s course in her head, Lexa made a beeline towards the left, hidden in the shadows of the tall pine trees. She had found the edge of a freshwater stream, creating a more level ground for her to run on. Lexa quickly picked up speed with the terrain change, and she cut through the forest like a bullet. 

To her right, Lexa saw the stranger, blonde hair whipping behind them, their body slowly giving up. She had to make her move now. 

Lexa cut right, running straight towards the blonde, displaying herself proudly as another option on the dinner menu. In one swift motion, the stranger crumpled towards the ground, legs giving out. Instead of falling to the floor, they fell into Lexa’s strong, readied arms. The brunette had her hands underneath each arm of the blonde before dragging their body to the side. She had to get the blonde out of the reapers’ path, settling for a nearby bush. After settling their body to the ground, Lexa unsheathed her daggers and lunged forward towards the reapers that had gained on them. 

As the zombie-like creatures staggered forward, teeth flashing and biting at the air, Lexa’s hands tightened around the handles of her daggers. She plunged one blade into the chest of a reaper, an agonized howl ripping through the air as she pushed all the way in to the hilt before ripping backwards, pulling the blade free. She continued the same motions over and over for every reaper she could, dodging a few futile attacks before driving a dagger into their stomachs. Her adrenaline coursed through her veins, her eyes set with determination. This could be her comeback. This could be the atonement she yearned for, the ability to right her wrongs in the eyes of the gods as well as Clarke’s. 

A sharp, bloodcurdling scream erupted through Lexa’s ears, throwing her off guard and causing her to falter. She whipped her head around to look behind her. Through the darkness, Lexa could barely make out a struggle between a reaper and the stranger she had saved. The brunette saw red, diving forward and kicking the reaper’s legs out from under them, knocking them to the ground and swiping the air from their lungs in one motion. Lexa looked upwards to the leg that was at eye-level. It had been badly cut, blood streaming freely over the porcelain skin of the stranger before her. Lexa had no time to think, no time to plan. All she knew was that if this stranger was going to survive, she needed to stop the bleeding. 

Lexa stood and felt around for the hand of the blonde, pulling them to their feet as fast as she could. The stranger let out another scream as the pressure from standing on such a critical wound caused their legs to give out again. Lexa caught the blonde before they fell to the ground, sweeping them up into her arms and running forward. 

The extra weight, though fairly light, grew increasingly heavier the farther Lexa had to run. She could hear the snarling of the reapers at her ankles, her legs shaking under the strain. 

Before long, the trees gave way into a rolling field filled with soft grasses and wildflowers. Lexa paused momentarily, trying to gather her thoughts and find a way to save them both. 

This was the field from her dreams. 

Lexa desperately looked around, the body in her arms becoming limp and heavy as the stranger grew unconscious. Lexa could feel the blood from their wound running down her arms and dripping to the forest floor below them. The blonde had only minutes left. 

Suddenly, Lexa’s eyes locked onto a small, brick building in the distance, just at the edge of the field. The brunette began sprinting again, the reapers getting closer since her pause. 

As she ran, the Commander realized that the building she quickly approached was in the same spot as the flaming grave from her nightmares. She almost tripped as the air was knocked from her lungs. She had to keep going. This was not a nightmare. This was real. 

Lexa reached the door to the building, kicking it open with the heel of her boot before stumbling inside, only to be met with more darkness. 

After carefully setting the blonde down, Lexa turned back towards the open door, the moonlight illuminating the large group of reapers approaching them. Wasting no more time, Lexa shut the door tight, feeling a spot for a latch to connect to the left of her hand. The Commander groped the wall to the right of the door, trying desperately to find a heavy barricade. Her slender fingers wrapped tightly around a steel latch, and Lexa quickly swung it down across the door, sealing them in tight. 

Suddenly, banging began on the outside, the sound resonating through the walls of the strange building. Lexa panicked, worried they could still find a way in. As seconds went on, the ravaging growls from the reapers growing angrier, Lexa grinned giddily, realizing that they were finally safe. The reapers couldn’t get in. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, Lexa tried to regain her focus. The first thing she needed to do was find a power source so she could assess the wound on the unconscious stranger she saved moments ago. Her hands caressed the brick walls to the sides of them, realizing quickly that they were currently in a tight corridor, an entryway of sorts. Before long, Lexa found a lever on the right wall. Shutting her eyes tight, Lexa flipped the switch. 

The room was illuminated quickly, light flooding over them from white, fluorescent bulbs built into the ceiling. Lexa looked around them, taking in her surroundings. 

They were, in fact, in an entryway. It was longer, than most, and Lexa was faced with a hall of white walls to both sides of her. At the very end of the hallway, there was a divergence, allowing you to go left or right, the entire corridor shaped like a ‘T’. Lexa nodded to herself, taking a quick note, before willing herself to look down. 

Below her at her feet was a pool of deep, ruby red blood. It spilled from the stranger’s leg, their pants torn open from knee to ankle. The gash, as long as Lexa’s arm, looked dirty, the skin around it red and aggravated. It needed to be cleaned; that is, if they didn’t die first. The loss of blood was extreme and worried Lexa. Maybe this had all been for nothing, and she had lost her chance to find Clarke. 

Letting her eyes roam upwards, Lexa quickly determined the stranger to be a girl. She looked like she had been living in the woods for a while now, her clothes dirty and her skin covered in cuts and bruises. She was thin, her ribcage noticeable. Lexa wondered how long she had gone without food, and felt a sharp pain of sadness and pity engulf her heart. Had she done it on purpose? Even without weapons, there is plenty to eat in the forest. Lexa shook the questions from her head and continued to examine the situation.

The Commander trailed her eyes further upwards, over the crest of her breasts, locking her eyes to the girl’s sternum, trying to decide if she was still breathing. Lexa’s eyes strained to see any motion, but soon saw the shallow rise and fall of the girl’s dirtied chest. She was breathing, but not well. 

Lexa leaned down, preparing to lift the girl back into her arms before realizing she never once looked at her face. Now, under shining lights, Lexa was granted the opportunity to see who she actually saved. She let her eyes glide upwards, a gasp painfully torn from her throat. 

A single thought entered Lexa’s clouded mind.

Even with her blue eyes closed and hair mussed and tangled, Clarke was still beautiful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again with another chapter. This one has taken the longest to write so far and yet it's still one of the worst things I've written. Hopefully the next chapter makes up for it...  
> Remember to comment your thoughts so far, leave a kudos, and feel free to ask me any questions you might have!
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	4. A Bloody Encounter

Lexa felt the air leave her lungs like a ghost. Her hands trembled as they sat frozen in the air. The image looked similar to a renaissance painting; a smooth brush stroke for Clarke’s soft skin, a jagged, shaking hand for her tangled blonde hair, a spilled palette for the growing pool of blood surrounding Clarke’s leg. It had been titled “A Tragedy”. 

Lexa shook herself from her statued state, quickly assessing the situation before Clarke’s time ran out. She ran her hands over Clarke’s cheeks, feeling the sweat stick to her palms. She dropped her hands to Clarke’s shoulders, shaking her gently, then violently, trying desperately to get the girl to wake up. 

“Clarke...Clarke...Clarke!” Lexa began to panic, her voice cracked and wavering. She couldn’t lose her now, she had gotten so close. 

Maybe she deserved to lose her. For good this time. 

“Shit!” Lexa hissed, her eyes welling with tears, her shaking arms slowing. She leaned back on the balls of her feet, her arms wrapping around her as she began to cry. 

Lexa had lost her. 

Her brain was clouded with grief, a hopeless feeling sinking deep into her stomach like an anchor. She closed her eyes as she couldn’t bear to see Clarke’s face. Lexa had let her down, yet again. 

A gasp of air tore Lexa from her self pity. The Commander looked up sharply, eyes wide and searching. Clarke had woken up, her breath coming quicker and less consistently. The blonde blinked her eyes, her head swaying back and forth against the wall behind her, unfocused and delirious. 

“Hey, hey stay with me. Stay with me Clarke,” Lexa pleaded, leaning forwards and pulling the blonde into her arms, lifting her body away from the wall. Clarke began to whimper, slowly realizing the pain shooting up her leg. Her limp arms wrapped gently around Lexa’s neck, her muscles weak. Lexa knew she wasn’t entirely aware of where she was or who was talking to her, but Lexa could feel Clarke drift away again, hearing her heart rate continue to slow. 

In one swift motion, Lexa pulled Clarke up, both of them standing with the blonde leaning heavily on the strong Commander. Lexa leaned down and swept the girls legs out from under her, cradling Clarke’s body against her own as the blonde’s head drooped lazily over Lexa’s arm, unable to hold herself up any longer. 

“Clarke, please. Please, you have to stay with me now. Clarke you have to keep your eyes open for me, okay?” Lexa pleaded with the girl as she began to walk quickly down the hallway, eyes still adjusting to the bright lights surrounding them. Taking a shot in the dark, Lexa veered left, finding another long hallway. Only this time, the hallway had steel doors alternating each other on each side, with a single door at the end; the only door made of glass. Lexa squinted her eyes and approached slowly, trying to see what was inside. 

The Commander saw a long, white bed covered with a thick, colorless blanket. A single pillow sat at the head, creaseless and untouched. Next to the bed was a simple white side table with four drawers, also undisturbed. A monitor was tucked in the corner of the room, wheels attached to the bottom of it so it could move closer to the bed. Lexa ran towards the door. 

The brunette settled Clarke against the wall once they reached the end of the hallway. She quickly unbuckled her armor from her chest and draped it over the unconscious blonde, protecting her. Lexa locked her knees in a bent position before rearing back and punching through the glass door, the sound like a gunshot against her ears. Jagged shards dropped to the ground as blood spilled from Lexa’s already damaged knuckles. She barely registered the pain, only recognizing the stark contrast the black had against the unpigmented tile beneath her feet. 

Lexa grabbed Clarke again, lifting her back into her arms and carrying her inside the room through the hole in the door, stepping over the glass before settling the girl onto the untouched bed. Clarke moaned, starting to gain consciousness again, her head turning from side to side, eyes unfocused and rolling back. Lexa needed to move fast. 

“I’m right here Clarke, I’m here. I promise I’m going to fix this,” Lexa said softly, her hands running through the girl’s blonde, sweaty locks. 

Clarke’s boots were the first to go. The brunette grabbed the heels and slid them off Clarke’s feet, sighing at the blood seeping from the girl’s dirtied socks and dropping her boots to the floor. Lexa quickly unbuckled Clarke’s belt, ripping it from the loops around her pants before unbuttoning them altogether. Her heart was beating out of her chest, fingers fumbling and shaking uncontrollably: she was scared. 

Finally able to get the button undone, Lexa gripped the edges of Clarke’s pants and inched them down her legs as quickly as she could, being sure to move gently over the blonde’s gaping wound, the intrusive garment joining the shoes. 

Lexa desperately searched the pristine room around them, trying to find anything that could close Clarke’s wound. The brunette lept from the bed, rummaging through all of the cupboards and drawers she could find, cursing loudly as she came up empty. She looked back towards the blonde, who was beginning to wake up again. Desperate whines came from the back of Clarke’s throat, her eyes fluttering and her fingers clenched into tight fists at her sides. Her legs began to shake as she suddenly felt the pain. 

A sharp scream filled the room for an instant, shattering Lexa’s heart as she realized she couldn’t take Clarke’s pain away. The blonde began to cry out, her back arching off the bed, toes curling at the searing pain creeping slowly up her leg. Right then, Lexa looked beyond Clarke’s tortured face and saw a silver cupboard sitting proudly against the wall. She ran for it, ripping open the doors and finding everything she could need. 

Pulling a needle, thread, gauze, and rubbing alcohol from the numerous shelves within the cupboard, Lexa dumped the items onto the desk by the bed. 

Clarke had tears running tracks down her cheeks. 

“Clarke, I’m going to help you. You have to try to stay still. Here,” she said, handing Clarke a section of gauze. “Put it in your mouth and bite down.”

The suffering blonde nodded quickly, her hands groping to find Lexa’s, eyes still unfocused and hazy. Her fingers wrapped around Lexa’s and she felt warmth shoot up her arm. As quickly as she found Lexa’s hand, Clarke pulled hers away with the gauze between her fingers, bringing them to her mouth and shoving the cotton between her chattering teeth. Lexa looked away, shaking the feeling of loss in her bones and gathering herself before moving towards the end of the bed. 

Clarke continued to bleed out against the white blankets beneath her, her thigh shaking violently with pain. Lexa could clearly see her muscles clenching hard beneath her taut skin. She threaded the needle.

 

********************

 

As Lexa sewed up the wound in Clarke’s leg, her ears were filled with a cacophony of screams, Clarke bucking wildly, her body trying desperately to escape the pain Lexa inflicted upon her. The Commander remained calm, though couldn’t help the feeling of absolute misery that sunk deep into her stomach like a rock, making it hard for her to swallow. 

Lexa made one last stitch before biting the end of the thread and tying it off. 

Clarke groaned, her throat scratched and aching. She tried to swallow, she tried to catch her breath, she tried to relax and willed her fists to unclench. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake the haze from her vision. She looked down towards her feet as Lexa stared back at her sadly. Neither of them said a word. 

Suddenly, Lexa looked away, breaking the connection. Clarke felt nothing. 

Lexa’s hands shook as she uncapped the rubbing alcohol, dousing a handful of gauze in the potent liquid. Clarke wrinkled her nose. 

“I’m so sorry Clarke. This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you,” Lexa said, keeping her gaze lowered. 

“What are yo-” Clarke cut herself off with a bloodcurdling scream, throwing her head back against the pillow and arching her back off the mattress, kicking her free leg unwillingly. 

Lexa pressed the thick cotton against Clarke’s wounded leg, holding it there long enough to clean it for the time being. The brunette pulled away and Clarke finally relaxed, her eyes fluttering shut, her body filled with relief as she slowly escaped the sheer pain she had just experienced. 

Lexa stood again, gathering her bloody tools and placing them back on the nightstand. Her fingers lingered on the smooth desktop, running her hands along the flawless white. Taking a deep breath and bringing herself back into focus, Lexa turned on her heel slowly, drinking in the blonde before her. 

Clarke didn’t look up at her. Instead, her head was turned to the opposite side, eyes closed, sweat dripping off her nose and down her cheeks. The sweat looked so much like tears that Clarke was thankful Lexa wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. 

The Commander approached the bed slowly, hands curling around the blanket under Clarke. She placed one palm gently on the bare ankle of Clarke’s injured leg, startling the blonde and ripping a gasp from her chest, her wide eyes frantically looking down at Lexa’s hand. 

“Shhh, you’re alright, you’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you again. I’m going to lift your leg up so you can get under the blanket and rest.” Lexa paused, staring deeply into the crashing ocean of Clarke’s fearful gaze. “Is that alright?” Lexa asked, careful to not overstep any boundaries. 

There was a standstill. Neither girl made a motion. Clarke searched Lexa’s face for anything she could find. She hoped to find deception and betrayal making a mask against Lexa’s smooth features. Instead, her heart clenched as she saw Lexa’s honesty, her desperation;

Her love.

Clarke swallowed hard, finally nodding her head, watching closely as the broken Commander gently tucked the blonde’s leg underneath the thick, white blanket. Clarke inched her other bare leg underneath with it as well, fully covered, her semi-naked body now hidden from the brunette standing above her. Lexa blushed and averted her gaze, the action not going unnoticed against Clarke’s focused eyes. 

“I should let you sleep,” Lexa mumbled under her breath, eyes darkened and broken. 

She couldn’t bear to look at Clarke. She didn’t want to fight; she was too tired to fight with her now. She also didn’t want to face what she had done. Not yet. Not now. 

She saw Clarke nod out of the corner of her eye, and looked up in the blonde’s direction. 

“There’s a light switch by the door,” Clarke said, her voice raspy and stern. She cocked her chin in the direction of the right corner of the room. “There are some blankets folded up over there on the floor if you wanted to sleep too,” she finished, watching Lexa look to the blankets. She watched, curious as Lexa froze and took in her surroundings, taking in a deep breath before walking towards the door. Her hand lingered over the switch, Clarke watching her slender fingers drift hesitantly for just a moment. Maybe Lexa didn’t trust the night just as much as Clarke. Maybe for the same reasons.

Lexa closed her eyes and plunged the room into darkness, the only light coming through the broken door as a gentle glow from the hallway outside. The Commander walked over towards the blankets, grabbing a single, thin rectangle of cheap cotton before laying it on the ground beside Clarke’s bed. Clarke watched every movement in fascination, unsure of this Lexa, the Lexa that was submissive and unconfident. As much as she swore to herself she cherished the pain the other girl obviously felt, it secretly broke her heart. 

Lexa settled herself on top of the sheer material, facing the wall, her back turned towards Clarke. The room fell into silence. 

Lexa closed her eyes, preparing herself for another restless night, her shoulder and hip already aching as they pressed against the tile floor beneath her. An unexpected sound soon broke the thick air in the room. Lexa felt her chest swell with comfort, her eyelids fluttering as they let out a single tear. She heard a whisper from the girl settled above her. 

“Thank you, Lexa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, my motivation has dwindled severely as school approaches. Hopefully I can get back into it tomorrow night.  
> As always, leave any questions and comments you have for me. Your praises this far have really touched me, so thank you all so much. 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	5. Chaos is Love

What a beautiful chaos love is. It is wild and treacherous, but swathed in empathy. It can be merciful if treated kindly, but can spit fire through barbed teeth and wicked tongues unexpectedly. It is the most dangerous game, a sadistic heart roulette; yet everyone continues to play. Including Lexa. 

As Clarke slept soundly, Lexa stared blankly at the wall in front of her, the world turned sideways as she remained on her side, no matter how painful it had become. She couldn’t risk Clarke waking and seeing the weakness that softened Lexa’s face. 

The Commander had no concept of time. With her inability to see the dawn rise or hear the faint ticking of a clock, Lexa felt like time had stretched infinitely in her colorless prison. The indistinct smell of alcohol still lingered in the very corners of the room, a smell of cleanliness and renewal.

Lexa wished she could rip her beating heart from her chest. 

Time continued, the world kept spinning, and Lexa still had no idea what time it was, though she didn’t want to explore on her own. Instead, she stood from her place on the floor, a quick groan passing through her lips as the feeling returned to her hip and shoulder. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, leaning her back against the cool metal of Clarke’s hospital bed. She ran her fingers through her chestnut hair, picking deftly at the loose braids pulled behind her head. For a brief moment, she wondered how her people were doing, what Titus was doing without her. She caught herself as quickly as her mind had wandered, stilling her hands and removing them from her hair. The intense, aristocracy-driven focus she had on the wellbeing of her people was what got her into this mess in the first place. Had she delved deeper into her own self, into Lexa’s soul instead of the Commander’s, Clarke would be safe and with her mother, who Lexa guaranteed was worried out of her mind. 

And maybe, just maybe, had Lexa thought about someone else besides herself for one moment, she would have Clarke in her arms instead of feeling tension settle over the room like a boulder. 

Lexa dragged her legs inward, preparing to stand, limbs shaky from exhaustion and general pain. She stood, slowly turning so her eyes could drink in the image of Clarke sleeping peacefully beside her. 

Clarke’s eyes fluttered underneath her closed lids, her head tossed comfortably to one side; the side that wasn’t facing Lexa. 

Her dirtied fingers were wrapped tightly around the edge of the blanket draped over her midsection, covering her bare legs from Lexa’s view. Her nails dug into the fabric every so often, causing a gentle scratching sound to fill the room. Her tanktop, now littered with rips and stains, presented so much skin to the air around her, goosebumps carved a path across her chest and down her slender arms. 

Clarke looked so peaceful this way, as if nothing bad had ever happened to her. Lexa knew the truth, and knew that while awake, the blonde’s eyes were dense with sadness and heavy with trauma. The Commander yearned to heal the wounds Clarke had within her shattered heart. She longed to have the blonde look at her with the same mysticism and excitement as she once did. It was a pipe dream, but a dream nonetheless. And in a world filled with nothing but nightmares and an onslaught of disaster, a dream gave Lexa more hope than anything else ever could. 

The blonde suddenly grew slightly restless, taking a deep breath before moving in the bed. Lexa held her breath and averted her gaze, desperately pleading with any gods that were listening that Clarke not wake up to find Lexa staring at her. With luck on Lexa’s side, the blonde did the opposite. 

Clarke rolled over, her tanktop inching across her skin to uncover the enormous bruise that painted her left shoulder, dipping all the way down her side and presumably down to her hip as well. Lexa gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. Though Clarke showed no pain, no face of discomfort, Lexa knew it had to be excruciating, especially to lay on. 

Lexa swallowed hard, recognizing that as much as she wanted to help the injured girl, there was nothing she could do until Clarke woke, which could potentially mean hours. The brunette sighed and turned away from Clarke, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to calm herself and distance herself from the blonde yet again for both of their safety. Lexa just needed to sleep; to ignore her urges that begged her to make amends whenever possible. 

As Lexa was about to lie back down, kneeling down to flatten her pitiful excuse for a blanket, she heard a whimper come from the bed above her. The brunette straightened, looking again to Clarke’s back. She recognized that Clarke’s breathing had picked up substantially, her chest rising and falling, the muscles in her shoulders quivering with each inhale. Lexa moved to the other side of the bed as silently as she could, careful not to wake the dreaming girl. She searched Clarke’s muddied face for anything she could, finally seeing a crease in her brow and a scrunched nose. 

Clarke was having a nightmare. 

Lexa wasn’t sure what to do. If the images behind Clarke’s eyes didn’t escalate, she had no reason to wake her. Lexa stood patiently, and watched Clarke grow increasingly more distraught. 

Her legs kicked gently against the blanket, the muscles in her arms twitching and clenching beneath her skin. Her fingers gripped the blanket tightly, a white pigment bleeding over Clarke’s already pale knuckles. A thin layer of sweat appeared at the edges of Clarke’s hairline. 

“Stop...please, stop. Please…” The blonde pleaded with someone in her sleep, desperation coating her voice like syrup. Lexa sat on the bed next to Clarke’s legs, keeping her distance but remaining close; a perfect medium. 

Clarke began to cry out, her eyes frantically moving beneath her eyelids. She brought her hands up to her face, hiding her features from Lexa’s focused gaze.    
“Please make it stop. Please, Lexa, make it stop.”

Lexa froze. She wasn’t sure if Clarke was lucid or still dreaming. Her heart was stirring in her chest, beating frantically against her ribcage, her breath caught in her throat. Clarke began to grow more restless, more desperate, the whining growing in pitch. Lexa knew she needed to step in whether she liked it or not. 

The brunette settled a gentle hand on Clarke’s hip, shaking the girl softly. “Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her voice low and calming. “Clarke, you need to wake up.”

A hand whipped across Lexa’s vision as the poor girl in front of her sat straight up and shoved her body as close to the head of the bed as she could get; as far away from Lexa as she could be. 

Her eyes were delirious, unfocused and hazy with sleep. Lexa sat, frozen against the foot of the bed, letting Clarke gather her surroundings. Her forest-green eyes stared at Clarke’s, trying to keep her face soft and appeasing for when the girl did come back to earth. 

“Clarke?” Lexa whispered, her voice steady and her eyes honest. Clarke turned her attention towards the stoic Commander. She watched carefully as Lexa moved her thumb back and forth against the blanket, feeling its softness as a way to cure her anxiety. Clarke dropped her shoulders slowly, though her face stayed marbled. 

“Clarke, I think you were having a nightmare,” Lexa suggested, refusing to move anything except her one finger, the only thing keeping the tears hidden in her eyes. 

“I know that,” Clarke hissed, her eyes turned poisonous and retched. Lexa dropped her gaze submissively, stroking the blanket a little faster as she felt a familiar pain in the corners of her eyes. Clarke cursed under her breath and ran her fingers through her damp hair. 

“I’m sorry, I’m...I’m just tired,” she said guiltily. She wasn’t sure if she had meant to make the Commander shrink into herself like she did. Clarke knew that Lexa saved her life. She was aware that because of the person who betrayed her and her people, she was alive. Yet again. Clarke couldn’t shake the desperate apology and gratitude that swam around in her brain. She couldn’t stop her body from leaning forward just an inch, dropping her facade and appearing more docile, hoping her body language could speak what her voice could not. 

Lexa looked back up, her eyes searching Clarke’s as her mouth stayed clenched. She didn’t want to say anything to upset the blonde again; she had learned her lesson. 

“Really, Lexa. I’m just tired. Plus, my leg hurts like a bitch,” she said with a smile, hoping the brunette could forgive her. A grin crept into the corner of Lexa’s mouth. 

What Clarke wasn’t prepared for were the butterflies that filled her stomach and made their way into her throat. Ever since Lexa had kissed her, Clarke felt her heart clench at the thought of Lexa’s deep, mossy eyes and her commanding voice that softened the longer she talked to the blonde. She recognized when Lexa’s demeanor calmed, usually only when Clarke entered the room. Clarke had a handful of emotions and had no idea how to decode them. The mountain really complicated things in that department. 

“Clarke, can I ask what your dream was about?” Lexa questioned, careful to watch for any mistake she may have made in asking. Instead, Clarke folded her legs out in front of her and settled her hands in her lap, picking at the dirt under her nails. She lowered her gaze away from Lexa’s.

“Yeah, um...It was nothing really,” Clarke started. “I have a lot of the same dreams, actually. They happen all the time, so I’m a master at stopping them.” She really didn’t feel like getting into it. She didn’t want to tell Lexa that she was afraid of the dark. That she was afraid of going back to sleep. That she was afraid of Lexa betraying her again, and that this was actually all a game. More than anything, she didn’t want to look weak. 

“I have some of those too,” Lexa commented, trying to connect with the girl before her. The room turned silent, an awkward tension growing thick in the air around them. Lexa was the first one to break. 

“Well, I should probably let you go back to sleep. We can do a few stretches that Nyko taught me in the morning, maybe explore. We don’t know what’s out there, or even where we are.” Lexa stood, her hand smoothening down the front of her shirt, feeling the tight muscles of her stomach under her palms. As the Commander prepared to settle back down for the night, she failed to see the desperation enter Clarke’s blue eyes. 

“Wait,” the blonde said. Lexa froze, turning around to face Clarke again. 

“I just...I don’t sleep well at night and that floor can’t be comfortable.” Clarke stammered, trying to make it seem as though she was concerned about Lexa’s comfort instead of her own. 

“You can sleep in the bed, if you want.”

Lexa watched Clarke carefully, hoping it was true. Hoping this wasn’t an elaborate trick. Her heart skipped a beat, her hands clammy against her shirt. As she searched Clarke’s face for answers, for anything that might bear the truth, she nodded, agreeing to the proposition made. 

Clarke scooted over on the bed, lifting the blanket, letting the cool air nip at her bare legs for only a moment as Lexa climbed in next to her, taking the blanket from her hands. 

The girls laid side by side, both staring at the ceiling above them, arms over their stomachs. 

“Did you mean what you said? Back at the mountain, I mean.” Clarke nervously picked at the skin around her nails, feeling the physical pain instead of her sadness. Lexa turned her head to look at the girl next to her, swallowing the rock lodged in her throat. “Did I mean what?”

“When you said it’s what I would’ve done. Did you think, given that the roles were reversed, that I wouldn’t have saved your people in there?” Clarke couldn’t continue to live with herself if she didn’t know the answer. She felt she had no right to be alive, to be the leader of her people, if she was so willing to betray someone else’s as Lexa had done to hers. 

Lexa closed her eyes, forcing the tears to stay hidden, willing her heart to slow. She looked back towards the ceiling. 

“You make your decisions with your heart, Clarke,” Lexa started, her voice raspy and low, speaking softly and honestly. It’s what the blonde deserved to hear from her. “I know you would’ve saved my people, given that the roles were reversed. You couldn’t do what I did. You couldn’t do something so heartless. I admire that about you.”

Clarke sighed, hearing Lexa’s words float through her ears, hearing the voice of the girl who would lay her heart down for Clarke to walk on instead of the unfeeling voice of the Commander. She knew Lexa was being as raw and honest as she could be. And it hurt her to admit what she did to Clarke out loud. 

In the darkened room, with only the glow of the hall light sinking in like a fog, the two girls laid side by side, nothing but shoulders touching, with two pairs of eyes glued to the ceiling. Anxiety filled the room with the sound of two beating hearts, neither girl willing to sleep in fear they might be targeted by their own minds. WIthout words, without breath, the room felt almost too quiet. It felt stiff and plastic. It made Clarke want to scream. 

In the darkened room, with only the glow of the hall light and each other to keep them company, Clarke inched her hand across the valley made between their bodies on the mattress, and locked her shaking fingers through Lexa’s. Neither girl looked away from the ceiling. Both of them smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Just wow. Thank you so much for your endearing comments and I am thrilled to see this story pass 1,000 hits as my other just crests the 58,000 mark. I am beyond happy that my work has been seen and my voice has been heard. Thank you to everyone commenting and liking this story. I am so determined to continue and write whenever I can. 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	6. The Lovers and The Chariot

“I can’t do it,” Clarke growled through gritted teeth. She wasn’t usually the kind of person who says words like _“can’t”_ , but this was a special occasion. For over an hour, Lexa had been trying her best to get Clarke out of bed and standing to no avail. The pain of walking on her cut leg and stiff muscles was too much right now. 

Lexa sighed and shook her head. Clarke scoffed.

“It’s pretty brave of you to act like that when _you’re_ the reason I’m even in this mess,” Clarke spat back, her eyes filled with rage. Lexa had no right to look so...so _disappointed_ in her. She knew her voice carried poison, knew the power her words had over the Commander. Clarke knew that she was the only one Lexa ever submitted to without question, and she proved her point yet again.

Lexa kept her gaze lowered, flinching at the anger in Clarke’s words. She couldn’t get away from the reminders. Her head screamed her guilt, her stomach churned violently at every dream. She was her own worst enemy, and Clarke had no idea.

Clarke ran her shaking hands through her hair. Her legs were tossed over the side of the bed, sitting facing the wall beside her, as Lexa knelt comfortably at her feet. 

“Lexa, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Clarke admitted, the heat of her guilt blushing pink across her cheeks. 

“No, you’re right Clarke. You wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t-”

“Stop,” Clarke interrupted quickly. “Not now. We aren’t talking about this.” Lexa nodded, now looking towards Clarke’s face, recognizing the morality that sat heavy over her eyes; she was as open as a book, as vulnerable as she could be, just so Lexa could understand her and find her sincerity.

“Besides, if you weren’t there to save me, a lot more that just my leg would be mauled.” The blonde chuckled as Lexa grimaced, desperate to shake the image of Clarke’s ravaged, bloodied body from her mind. She swallowed hard. 

“Should we try again?”

Lexa reached out her hand and stood, offering support to the blonde, which Clarke gladly took, even though her heart screamed to ignore anything Lexa had to offer, especially after last night.

Lexa slept soundly in the bed, her breathing even and calm. She held loosely onto Clarke’s hand, refusing to let it go. A few times throughout the night, Clarke tried to pull her hand away, only for Lexa to squeeze tighter and let a whimper escape her throat. Clarke smiled hopelessly each time; the usually impassive Commander simply melted at Clarke’s touch. It was enough to send the blonde’s heart soaring.

As Lexa’s comfort allowed her the opportunity to finally rest peacefully without dreams, Clarke was struck with a horrible bout of insomnia, her eyes tired but her mind overactive, as usual. 

Clarke was at war with herself. She couldn’t appease either side without provoking the other. A piece of her heart longed for Lexa; it had since they kissed. She craved Lexa’s touch, her hitched breath against Clarke’s lips, eyes darkened and lustful. Clarke wanted to please Lexa so badly. She wanted more time with her, more time with walls down and no wars to fight. She wanted Lexa, not the Commander. And even now, as the silence from the white walls caved in on her, Clarke only wanted Lexa beside her. Them, alone together in this place, provided the perfect chance for Clarke to act on her impulses, to chase her desires and be with Lexa how she wanted; how she had dreamed. Instead, there was a voice in her head, gnawing away at any fantasy she concocted. The voice was overpowering and dominant, clouding Clarke’s judgement. It’s constant purpose to remind Clarke of Lexa’s betrayal and the bitter words she used to throw her under a moving bus. Every tiny detail of that night was engraved in Clarke’s head as fuel for the rage Lexa saw now. With every thought of Lexa’s soft hair between her fingertips, every faint memory of the way she smelled, Clarke was interrupted by flashing images of warpaint, blood and a standoff.

_“I’m sorry, Clarke.”_ Those words had rang in her head, over and over, for weeks. Looking at the situation objectively? Lexa betrayed her. Looking at it emotionally?

_ Lexa still smelled like fresh rain and wildflowers. _

Clarke gripped Lexa’s hand, turning the dark skin white under her grip, as she pushed herself off the bed and stood straight, her balance wavering. Lexa leapt forward, holding the blonde against her chest before Clarke had a chance to fall. Clarke pressed her open palm to Lexa’s sternum as her other hand stayed locked with the brunette’s, tucking her head under Lexa’s chin and trusting her to hold them both upright. 

The room grew even quieter somehow, the air so tense you could slice through it. Lexa didn’t dare move, only relished in the feeling of holding the injured girl closer to her. Clarke heard Lexa’s strong heartbeat under her ear, closing her eyes at the sound, feeling a wave of alm wash over her bones. The pain in her leg brought her back to reality. 

Clarke stepped back, shifting her weight onto her heels, distancing herself from Lexa’s hold. She cleared her throat, the Commander watching her every move with diligent eyes, also sensing the change in the room.

“I-uh, I’m sorry about that,” Clarke said regrettably, lowering her gaze as heat crept up her neck, pulsing through her blood like molten lead. 

“It’s alright, Clarke. Maybe we should try walking around,” Lexa suggested, also averting her gaze. It looked like a strange dance between the young women; neither really focused on each other, yet remained so incredibly fine tuned to their partner’s body next to them that no movement went unrecognized. Clarke nodded her head.

Lexa held onto Clarke’s hand, refusing to let go, as she helped Clarke stretch her legs and limp across the floor into the bright hallway. Lexa blinked, her eyes adjusting to the starch white walls and overpowering lights. As they moved, they moved with purpose, searching for any window and any open door that could tell them where they were. Clarke slowly felt the pain in her leg dissipate into something more akin to a dull ache; easy enough to ignore. The girls moved slowly, each step taken with caution. As Lexa scanned over every corner of the hallway, every door hinge left bare for her to see, Clarke watched the Commander instead. Her gaze drifted solemnly over the tight skin at Lexa’s temple, the long, dark eyelashes that framed her restless eyes, the soft pink of her cheeks. Clarke felt the room grow hotter as she lowered her gaze to Lexa’s lips and down the smooth column of her throat. Her vision grew hazy with images of kissing up Lexa’s neck, desperate to elicit sounds from the shaking Commander who submitted to every touch of Clarke’s gentle hand. 

Clarke ripped her hand from Lexa’s grasp, pulling it back to her side before crossing her arms over her chest to keep herself from going back. Lexa stopped, looking at the blonde with a gentle, concerned gaze that made Clarke feel sick to her stomach. 

“I’m sorry if I did something, I should’ve-”

“Maybe we should keep moving...separately,” Clarke suggested, her voice hard as marble and just as cold as ice. Lexa’s face fell, and Clarke noticed, despite the brunette’s obvious attempt to hide it. The sadness that swam through Lexa’s eyes hurt Clarke more than anything, feeling a stern grasp close around her heart and knock her breath from her lungs. She couldn't be near Lexa right now, not as every feeling within her began to create a tower threatening to collapse. 

Lexa nodded and stood straight, appearing in control and decisive, even as her soul ached deep in her bones. Clarke was pulling away from her again and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. It ripped at her heart and challenged the Commander within her. A part of her wanted to give Clarke what she wanted; the same, heartless monster she presented on a silver platter at Mount Weather. They both knew it was easier to forgo any ideas of forgiveness between them. The animosity that was left hovered over them like a dense fog. Lexa knew Clarke couldn’t quite see the lighthouse through it and instead, gave in and let the fog become her. 

The other part of her, the true part, the part with the girl who fell hard and fast when she fell at all, spending her teenage years chasing after a fiery smartass who bested her at almost anything, only to feel true hurt and heartache when that fire was inevitably blown out...that part wanted fall to her knees and beg Clarke to forgive her. 

“I’ll meet you back here in a little while. I’ll go straight ahead if you want to search the rooms down this way.” 

Clarke seethed at the girl’s bitter tone. She stood motionless as she followed every move Lexa made as she walked down the hall, growing smaller, before reaching the end and turning left out of eye shot without a second glance. 

The Lovers card had been reversed. The Chariot was turned upright. 

 

********************

 

Clarke was livid. Within minutes of losing sight of Lexa, her fist connected with the white wall beside her, a crack resonating through the ceiling tiles as the cheap plaster gave way into a deep hole. Clarke’s hand shook, her knuckles immediately sore from the hit. Needle-sized cuts lashed across Clarke’s hand but she didn’t care. She felt numb. 

A few feet in front of her sat a door with an old fashioned knob jutting out from the wood. The faded silver was carefully crafted with smooth lines and curves, forming a floral pattern around its edges. Directly below it sat a keyhole, the only door in the hallway that had one. Curiosity got to Clarke, urging her to walk forward and investigate despite the potential danger in this unknown environment. She limped towards the door, gritting her teeth at the pain reappearing through her leg. As she approached, she silently pressed her ear to the door, holding her breath, searching for any sounds on the other side. She was met with silence. 

Clarke closed her shaking hand around the doorknob, her stomach in her throat, swallowing hard before turning her wrist. She was met with resistance, but as she continued to turn, the door gave in, allowing Clarke to open the wooden barricade with a gentle push. 

When nothing jumped out at her or fought her to keep the door closed, Clarke grew more confident, pushing the door open farther until the crack she peered through was no longer a crack, and she was met with the entirety of the room. 

The first thing Clarke noticed was the color. Instead of a monochromatic, uniform approach that she saw in the hallway and hospital room, her eyes drank in a muted blue paint, something similar to a matted ocean or the color of a clear sky early in the morning. She felt as if she hadn’t seen color in years. 

To her right sat a dresser nearly shoulder height. It was pressed up against the same wall as the door, and presented its own beauty to the room. Lined with gold paint, the dresser was crafted from bare oak wood, no stain to polish it up. On its surface sat a white lamp with a fringed, pastel green lamp shade adorning it. To Clarke’s left, on the same side as the door, sat a dark blue armchair with a red, plaid afghan draped carelessly over the back. Clarke entered the room, hand still on the doorknob. 

In front of her sat a large, king-sized bed that was pressed tightly up against the wall to Clarke’s right. The sheets and pillowcases were gray satin, the color deep and lustful. A maroon duvet was pulled halfway up the mattress before being neatly folded over itself, creating a plush, comfortable look. Clarke entered the room, hand drifting over the abrasive surface of the dresser before moving towards the bed. Feeling the satin beneath her fingertips felt like touching lightening. It was smooth and calming, the creases in the fabric moving with her instead of against her. The duvet felt like down, sinking under the pressure of Clarke’s bloodied hand. God, she would _kill_ to have a shower. 

It was at that moment that Clarke looked up towards the rest of the room, her gaze settling over another door adorned in a similar fashion as the other; a metallic-like door handle, a doorknob design crafted from flora, and a small keyhole at the base of it all. Clarke ventured forward, another bout of curiosity striking her. 

This time, Clarke had fewer doubts about opening the door, so she quickly pushed it forward and swung it open until it collided with the wall behind it. She nearly cried. 

A large, tiled shower was directly in front of her, settled comfortably in the far right corner while kicking out its massive flooring. To the left of the shower was a large vanity that stretched from the shower edge to the opposite wall. Two mirrors, encrusted with gold, adorned the walls above the porcelain sinks, giving Clarke the opportunity to see her own face for the first time in months. 

Her gaze locked on to the stranger in the mirror, her stomach unsure but her feet moving her forward. She approached the vanity, her hands resting hesitantly against the granite top as she stared deeply into her own eyes. Her face looked thinner, older almost. Older by a few years. However, even as it looked older, it lacked wrinkles, lines, and generally unwanted blemishes. Instead, it looked aesthetically older, her features holding wisdom as her eyes captured sincerity. She reached a hand up to stroke the mirror with a single finger as a tear escaped her eye. She had lost herself, her younger self, to the ground. She had ripped her youth from her skin and presented it to Earth as a gift, only to be given tragedy and destruction in return. She couldn’t bear to look at herself anymore, the tears falling more freely now. She closed her eyes, turning her head away from the mirror and instead looking at the shower. She had every intention of washing the weeks of grime from her body and she felt something different as she removed and discarded her clothes, throwing them to the side carelessly. 

She felt happy. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, I'm so sorry for the late update. My house was without power for a while and school caught up with me. I may not update again until this weekend but I will try my best. 
> 
> I am going to try to move away from longer updates with text breaks and instead try for shorter updates, both for my sanity and the benefit of the readers, as updates will come more frequently. 
> 
> As always, never hesitate to comment, kudos, share, and ask questions. 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	7. A Decision

Lexa felt broken. She felt trapped in a shell of her body, moving and talking without feeling. Her eyes were stone, she knew that much. She gathered that from how quickly Clarke’s face changed from slightly apologetic to furious. Lexa knew that walking away, turning a cold shoulder, was the move of the Commander, not of herself. Yet, as her legs took her further from Clarke, she had no willpower to stop them. Soon enough, she had turned the corner. 

Shaking Lexa from her own self-pity was a horrible stench. It made her eyes water, bile rising in her throat. She lifted her gaze from her feet to view the room before her.

Lexa stood at the front of a large dining room underneath a polished archway. An extravagant display surrounded her, colors flooding her eyes, a sharp contrast from the hallway she just walked out of. Fringed banners hung from the ceilings, closely resembling flags, perhaps of different territories. Lexa was not aware of any territories around them using flags, but they could have easily been memorabilia from years ago. Two long tables were laid out before her, each adorning an array of rotten food. The lamps that were placed strategically along the center of the tables flickered, their lights burning out slowly but surely. It was clear what the smell was once Lexa absorbed the rest of the room she stood in. 

There were about twenty wooden chairs placed only inches from the next that lined the tables’ edges. In those chairs sat twenty bodies of men, women, and children. Each of their faces were bloodied and burned, black edges charred along hairlines and cheekbones. Skin was peeled back, muscles and bones visible, and Lexa felt the overwhelming desire to purge, even as her stomach held nothing in it already. She closed her eyes and looked away, a sinking feeling settling deep within her heart. 

She was the reason these people were here. She was the reason they experienced such a horrible death. 

Mothers died holding their children, arms still clasped around them limply, noses buried in their hair. Fathers died against the vents and doorways on the opposite end of the room, desperate to find a way out; desperate to save the ones they loved. A few sat alone, with no one to comfort them as they passed. They died face down at the table, accepting their fate and refusing to look.

Lexa felt a pain in her heart so strong it nearly doubled her over. She clasped at her chest, eyes watering as tears began to spill, her footing faltering only slightly. This was all her fault. 

When making a decision objectively, the consequences aren’t always seen. The choice is made without feeling and without heart in order to accomplish a set goal, to carve a set path, to make way for another intention. Now, as Lexa stood at the end of the room, selfishly casting the sound of her beating heart throughout the rafters, she felt her undeniable guilt sink over her skin and down to her bones. She felt heavy and lost and the tears wouldn’t stop. She felt out of control. 

She had seen death before. She had seen it in more gruesome ways than this. 

Through all of her training to become Commander, all of her lessons with Anya to become an excellent second, nothing could have prepared her for Costia’s lifeless eyes staring at her from her own bed, disconnected from her body as well as the world. Her light was snatched from her quickly and without reason, and Lexa reaped the consequences. She faltered then as she did now, realizing that the death of an innocent person was by no other fault than her own. 

Lexa felt weak as she realized her own selfish decisions had taken away so many lives. The weight of the room weighed heavy on her as the walls caved in. 

She was desperate for a distraction, anything that could take her gaze off of the tragedy presented before her so she could control her emotions. She hadn’t felt guilt this heavily or cried this freely since Costia. Then, she had collapsed on the floor, screaming for mercy as she felt the agony rip at her heart. Now, she cleared her throat and turned away, choosing to focus on the dying white roses that sat against the wall to her right. 

Lexa entered the room further, careful not to move too quickly or make any sounds. It felt disrespectful somehow, and even though her rational self knew this was no funeral, she still chose her next actions with caution, since she was the reason for this sorrowful tomb. 

She picked up her slender fingers, carefully stroking over the petals, one detaching and drifting gently to the ground beside her boot. She smiled sadly as she watched yet another thing disconnect through contact with her. 

Maybe her dream was right. Even as she moved lovingly through the beautiful, healthy wildflowers, it didn’t change the poison in her touch. Nothing ever could. 

Without warning, Lexa’s knees gave out, her entire body collapsing to the floor like a bag of rocks, unable to brace her fall. She felt and heard more than she could see, her vision scattered and blurry. 

A growl, a malodor, the heavy weight of someone on her lower back. Before Lexa could prepare to counterattack whatever was on top of her, two calloused hands reached around her shoulders and clasped tightly around her throat, squeezing without leniency. Lexa felt a vein in her forehead extend, pressing hard against her skin, her eyes wide, her mouth open in a voiceless scream. Her hands were pinned underneath the knees of the stranger, her legs useless and tingling. She tried to roll, only to be knocked back into position. One hand moved from her throat and to her head, slamming it sideways against the ground, before returning to its original position. Punishment for trying to escape. 

Lexa felt blood drip slowly down her temple, her face flushed and panicked. This was it: this was how she was going to die. 

Through the tension building in her head, the desperate gasps that gave her no air, the only thing Lexa could think about was the sad look on Clarke’s face as she walked away that night at the Mountain. 

 

********************

 

Clarke felt the water rain down her body, the heat bringing a light flush to her pale skin. The dirt and grime from the week traveled to the tile floor and circled down the drain, similarly to the way the blood washed from her wounds. 

She hummed to herself as the warm water massaged her bruised shoulder back to normal, the pain subsiding significantly. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, feeling the knots against her fingertips and grimacing. She began to work at them, gently applying soap before combing them out thoroughly. She felt clean for the first time in months. She felt like herself again. 

A small bang interrupted her distracted thoughts, her body stiffening quickly. She froze, eyes firm and focused, ears searching for any other sounds she could find. She turned off the water and opened the shower door, a cloud of steam following suit. Clarke stood naked in the empty bathroom, panicked and anxious, her heart racing. Another bang was heard in the hallway outside the bedroom. 

Clarke grabbed her clothes and threw them on, feeling them cling to her wet skin in an instant. She limped from the bathroom and managed to get to the door without hearing another noise. Taking no risks in waiting, her hand curled around the doorknob before peering into the white, empty hallway. She turned her head, looking both ways, before leaving the room completely. 

Lexa. She had to get Lexa. 

Clarke had put no other plan into place, had thought of no other options. Her only goal was to find Lexa and make sure she was safe. She didn’t have time to analyze why her body begged her to find the Commander, so she went with her gut feeling, further down the hallway and turning the same corner Lexa had just minutes before. 

As Clarke entered the room, the color struck her in the same way as the bedroom, her eyes instantly distracted. She searched the room for the source of the noise, bringing her eyes from the tattered banners on the ceiling down to the floor. She felt her breath choke her as her gaze settled.

Bodies. Dozens of bodies were stretched in front of her, skin burned and peeled back, blood dried to otherwise pristine clothes. To the left of her, at the foot of the table, sat a boy no older than twelve. His body was slumped backwards, head drooping over the chair, arms draped to his sides, hanging limp and lifeless. Below his left hand sat a soccer ball, dirtied by mud and grass. 

He had scuff marks on his knees. Clarke felt dizzy. 

These were the people she killed. These were the people of the Mountain. 

They were in Mount Weather. 

Her knees grew shaky and her fingers went numb as she felt her stomach drop. Her lungs felt punctured, tenderness wrapping around her aching heart. She murdered these children. The blood in this room was spilled by her hands, and now she had to face the chaos. 

A sharp sound broke her gaze, drawing her attention back to the real world. Her eyes darted quickly to the other side of the room, where she saw a reaper covered in ash. His clothes were torn and dirty, a thick mud pasted against his neck, his eyes ruthless and frenzied. Below him was Lexa, face down on the ground, arms trapped beneath his knees. 

His hands were wrapped tightly around her throat, making her desperate calls for help dim into silent gasps. Her eyes were wide, her face tinted blue, lips pale and shaking violently. She was only a few minutes from dying, and with every movement of the reaper’s hand, death only crept closer. 

Without thinking, Clarke grabbed a steak knife from the table, clutching the handle in her hand with every intention to kill him and save the Commander. 

It was precisely because of her sureness, because of her immediate response, that Clarke wasn’t exactly sure why her feet didn’t move. She just froze up. 

As she stared down at the scene before her, Lexa’s life literally in the hands of a violent killing machine, Clarke felt something tug at her heart. She had a choice to make. 

Before her sat lifeless bodies; mothers holding their children close, elderly curled up in soft armchairs, fathers slumped against doors and vents trying desperately to escape. Trying to save their family. Something Clarke’s own father did for her and her mother by making a sacrifice. 

Even though Clarke was the one pulling down the lever, letting the air into Mount Weather, killing everyone inside, it was Lexa’s fault she even had to make that decision. 

Lexa left her. She had said her piece and walked away, much like she did in the hallway earlier. She had turned cold and deceitful, her eyes nothing like the warm, innocent green eyes Clarke loved to stare into during clan meetings when Lexa wasn’t paying attention. 

She had betrayed Clarke to get her way and told her she expected that Clarke would have done the same. She pegged Clarke as a traitor: a malicious, unfeeling beast who manipulated anything she could to get her way. She forced Clarke to choose between her family and the innocent lives of others. She forced Clarke to kill hundreds of unsuspecting people within seconds. And a part of her couldn’t forgive that. 

Yet as Clarke thought about her hatred, her spite towards the struggling brunette, she remembered what it felt like to kiss her. To be held by her. To feel close to someone who understood her soul and not just what she stood for. She felt tenderness with Lexa, a feeling she never had with Bellamy or Finn. She had never experienced lust and love so intertwined before, and whether they stood delegating with other clans or laid peacefully in a grounder tent, Clarke always felt her heart swell hopelessly and seemingly without cause. Lexa’s gentle gaze when they were alone tore the breath from her lungs, as the roughness of her voice made her legs shake with want. She loved Lexa. She truly did. 

She loved her and she _fucking hated her_ with everything she had. 

As Clarke was faced with a decision, to either save Lexa or watch her die as vengeance, she rolled the knife handle in the palm of her hand, watching apathetically at the scene before her. 

She calmly walked forward with the blade turned outwards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter was enough for now. The rest of the story hinges on this moment so stay tuned!  
> Remember to share, comment, and leave a kudos!
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	8. Revisiting the Past

Without feeling, Clarke plunged the knife deep into the shoulder of the reaper, causing him to let out an ungodly scream, rearing back and letting go of his vice-like grip on Lexa. Clarke backed up as the reaper desperately tried to get the knife from his back, clawing at his neck, attempting to reach it with his hands. Lexa rolled to the side and sat up quickly, throwing one strong leg over the waist of the struggling reaper, knocking him to the ground. She wrapped her slender fingers around his neck as he had done to her, and with one swift motion, she turned his head in her hands, cracking his neck and dropping his limp body to the floor. Lexa scrambled off of him and got as far away as she could, nearly pressed up against the wall to her left. 

She struggled for air, her knees and hands placed on the ground, her head down as she coughed violently. Clarke went over to the panicked brunette, kneeling down beside her and placing a soothing hand between her prominent shoulder blades. Lexa flinched at the touch, and it didn’t go without notice to Clarke. 

Lexa wasn’t sure who to trust now. She watched as Clarke hesitated, gripping the knife in her hand, looking between Lexa’s face and the rest of the room. It was clear that Clarke was morally contemplating her decision, which is what hurt Lexa the most. 

It took her that long to decide to save her after Lexa had done just that for Clarke in the forest only days before. 

Clarke removed her hand from Lexa’s back but only momentarily, putting it back even slower, somehow gentler than the last time. Lexa closed her eyes and willed her body to relax, trying to get air back into her lungs, the skin around her throat raw and screaming. Clarke rubbed circles between Lexa’s shoulders, her comforting touch dripping warmth like honey through Lexa’s bones. She began to instantly calm. 

“Is that better?” Clarke asked, her gaze questioning as she tried to search what she could see of Lexa’s hidden face. She felt bad for hesitating. She knew why she did it, but even so, it wasn’t right of her. Lexa had saved her from the reapers in the woods. Even through their past, Lexa deserved at least the same respect. 

Lexa nodded towards Clarke’s question, and moved away from the blonde, now able to pull oxygen into her lungs, her chest rising and falling more naturally. She sat against the wall with her knees up, resting her arms across them, with her head in her lap. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at Clarke. She couldn’t bring herself to see the pity in her eyes. 

Clarke sat as well, only she sat across from Lexa with a comforting gaze instead of looking away. She refused to look away. She felt awful about what she had done, and she knew Lexa saw it all. Clarke could feel drops of water run down her back from her wet hair, making her shiver, her clothes still sticking to her skin. 

The girls sat in silence, the only sound coming from the gentle rain on the metal slats of the roof above them. It was calming to both of them, though the atmosphere still felt stiff and rigid. Lexa looked up at Clarke, her eyes sullen and hurting. Clarke felt her heart sink in her chest. She saw the purple bruises forming quickly against the Commander’s tanned skin. 

“How did he get in?” Clarke asked, deciding to ignore the question she knew Lexa was dying to ask. In reality, Clarke didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t think of one. She was grateful she diverted the inevitable conversation, as she truthfully had no right answer. Her motives, in the end, were driven by love over fairness, and that was all she could see. Her love for Lexa trumped everything else. Even after a split hesitation between ethics and atonement, she always came back to love. 

Lexa broke her boring gaze away from Clarke, searching the room around them from where they sat, finally jutting her chin outwards towards the opposite wall on the other end of the room. Clarke stood and followed Lexa’s gaze, finding a ventilation system with a hatch unscrewed and pushed open. 

With one last look at Lexa’s tense body leaning tightly against the wall, Clarke ventured to the opposite side, careful to focus on the wall instead of the bodies that filled the room around her. Reaching the end of the room, Clarke knelt down beside the open vent. The screws had rusted pretty severely, so they were easy to take out. That’s probably why Lexa didn’t hear him, Clarke thought. The almighty Commander was usually quick on her feet, her hearing yet another impeccable thing about her. Clarke stood straight again and looked back towards the broken brunette who was no longer looking at her but instead at her feet. 

“Lexa?” Clarke called, careful to keep her voice soft as to not startle the girl. Lexa looked up, her gaze static and emotionless. Clarke nearly whimpered her regret. 

“Help me push this thing in front of the vent. It will keep the rest of them out,” Clarke said, gesturing towards the marble bust to her right. Lexa nodded and rose to her feet, walking towards the blonde confidently and unfeeling. 

The girls grabbed each side of the rectangular display, lifting at the edges. It was extremely heavy with the marble attached to its top, and they struggled to inch it across the floor in front of the hole in the wall. It was only an inch or two smaller than the opening, but its weight meant that anyone or anything coming through the airway would have to either choose a different route or make a ton of noise. 

Clarke and Lexa stood face to face, eyes unwavering, bodies straight. Clarke could feel Lexa’s sadness radiate off of her in waves, each one ripping at her skin and tearing at her lungs. 

Through all of the anger she should feel, all of the sadness, all of the despondency, Lexa only felt guilt. She felt guilty that she left Clarke at the Mountain without so much as an apology. She felt guilty that she turned her back on Clarke when things became too much in the hallway earlier. She felt guilty that she left Clarke alone, without any sort of comfort, on multiple occasions. She felt guilty that Clarke was forced to face such a difficult decision just moments ago, fighting between her feelings and her righteousness. She was guilty she had kissed Clarke in the first place. None of her decisions had been fair or kind, and she had failed to think about how her actions affected others, especially Clarke. She was surprised that Clarke had chosen to save her, in all honesty. She couldn’t escape the feelings that clawed at her throat and sunk her stomach into her feet every time she looked at the gorgeous blonde before her, and it hurt her to know that with each breath she took, Clarke was unintentionally wracked with pain and confliction. Clarke’s pain became her pain.

Lexa’s soul had known sin, and this was knowledge she could not lose, no matter how desperate she was to forget. 

“We should try to find any other openings. Anywhere they could get in.” Clarke was the first to break their gaze, lowering her eyes before turning back towards the hallway, expecting Lexa to follow willingly. 

Like always, she did.

 

********************

 

Within the next hour, it seemed as though every door and every airway leading outside had been barricaded with heavy furniture and decorative paintings. The girls were sweating, their muscles trembling, as they continued to make their way down another hallway, unsure of where they were headed. Neither of them spoke, both of them heavy with burdens. 

Lexa was sure to keep her chin up. She refused to falter. She refused to look weak. Clarke couldn’t know she was hurting. She would rather suffer in silence later in the night when Clarke fell asleep. 

Clarke, on the other hand, looked as pitiful as she felt. Her stomach was churning violently, a wretched feeling in her chest growing stronger every so often. She wrung her hands together anxiously as they walked, her feet only a few inches in front of Lexa’s. 

Suddenly, Clarke began to slowly recognize the hallway they had turned down. To the right of them sat a heavy steel door with a keypad on the outside of it, hanging on by a few colored wires: the same keypad Monty had hacked into a week earlier. Clarke nearly doubled over. 

They had reached the control room, the command center for every floor in the building. Lexa paused outside of Clarke’s unmoving body, scanning both the deserted hallway as well as the frozen girl. She wasn’t sure why they had stopped, but felt the air turn thick and morbid. She looked at the blonde questioningly, though Clarke’s eyes had been covered with a filmy haze; Clarke felt like she had left her body. 

This was where it all happened. This was her breaking point. Her rock bottom. And now, standing before the same door she had entered a week ago, the same door she left through as a murderer, their entire situation felt more real, more concrete. 

She was stuck in a giant tomb with the girl who dug the hole. 

“Clarke?” Lexa asked worriedly, her voice strong but cautious as to not startle the blonde. She wanted to bring her back slowly. This place obviously held bad memories for Clarke, and as much as her heart ached with misery, she wanted to help heal Clarke’s wounds in any way she could. She owed her that much. 

Clarke shook her head, a tear running down her cheeks. She wiped it away with the back of her shaking hand, before turning to Lexa. 

“This is the control room where...where I-”

Lexa held up her hand firmly. Clarke didn’t need to explain anything to her, not ever. She understood what Clarke was trying to say, and that was enough. 

“I understand, Clarke. Would you like to go in?” Lexa asked the question genuinely and sincere, careful not to push if Clarke wasn’t ready. 

“There are cameras that show the other floors, as well as outside. It’s probably best if we at least see what we’re dealing with,” Clarke said, her gaze now lowered back to her bare feet. 

Lexa reached out her hand before the Commander’s voice could stop her. She tucked her index finger below Clarke’s tipped chin and gently tilted it upwards, Clarke’s gaze searching for hers. Lexa felt electricity rocket through her nerves as she touched the blonde's soft skin, blue eyes meeting green. 

She looked down at the struggling girl with contentment, her green eyes softened and rhapsodic. She knew the pain Clarke was feeling; she knew it all too well. 

“I know what you’re feeling, Clarke,” Lexa began, her voice slow and heartfelt. Clarke relaxed under the girl’s gentle touch before Lexa removed her hand nervously. 

“I feel the same pain every time I enter my room, every time I lay in my bed. It feels wrong to revisit a place of death. For months, I couldn’t sleep in my room in Polis. I was afraid I would see Costia’s face-” Lexa cut herself off and swallowed hard before a solemn smile tweaked the corner of her lips. Clarke was enchanted at her every word, Lexa's voice washing over her like warm water. Lexa was choosing to be vulnerable with her, even after what Clarke did only hours earlier. Her chest swelled with bliss at the thought. 

“Eventually I went back, a little at a time. Titus encouraged me to sleep on the floor first and work my way back into my bed. Eventually I got through the pain, Clarke. You will too.” Lexa felt confident in her words, expressing a part of her past that no one but Titus had known. A moment of her past where she felt weak and vulnerable was now granted to Clarke as encouragement to forgive and let go, just as Lexa had. 

Clarke closed her eyes and nodded. She turned and pushed the heavy door open, a creaking sound filling their ears. 

Everything looked exactly the same. There were two desks, each adorned with flickering lamps and laptops with screens as black as the walls around them. Above them, multiple televisions were displayed, their power still on and working hard to display a somewhat clear image of every other floor, as well as right outside the compound. 

Clarke walked closer, her gaze searching each television carefully, looking for anything that could tell them how long they had left trapped in the Mountain. 

“There,” Lexa said firmly, her hand pointed to the upper right screen. Clarke followed her hand and saw what Lexa had seen. 

The screen displayed just outside the door they had entered through in the field of wildflowers. Around the steel barricade sat dozens of reapers, clawing desperately at the reinforced walls, banging on the doors. Some had nested just outside the entrance, creating flattened paths of grass for beds and shelter. 

Clarke felt panic rise in her throat. They were stuck here until the reapers fled, which could mean weeks, even months. The reapers were restless and relentless, trying everything they could to get in. Their blood was smeared thickly across the door leading inside. 

It took only moments, but Clarke began to recognize something odd about the creatures on the screen. 

“Clarke, there’s too many of them to fight, what should we-”

“Stop,” Clarke interrupted. Lexa closed her mouth immediately, not wanting to pull Clarke’s thoughts away from her. 

“Look,” Clarke encouraged, tapping the glass with a single finger, resting it just below a particular reaper. She was lying in the grass on her back, scratching fervently at her arms and legs, red streaks appearing below her sharp nails. She clawed at her own throat, her mouth open in a scream the girls couldn’t hear. Lexa was confused, but Clarke knew what was happening. 

“They’re in withdrawal,” Clarke said with a slight smile. 

“What is withdrawal?” Lexa still wasn’t caught up on all of the words Skaikru used, and Clarke’s happiness evaded her. Clarke turned towards Lexa, staring at her with a slight twinge of happiness in her eyes. 

“Withdrawal is when someone becomes addicted to something, but that something gets taken away. They become dependent on it, so they’re body reacts dependently. When you take that...that _thing_ away from them, their body doesn’t really know what to do without it. Sometimes people addicted to drugs will scratch and get sick and shake really hard. My mom saw patients like this all the time on the ark. They used to become addicted to their pain meds after surgeries,” Clarke said, speaking of her mother for the first time in weeks. She had seen many withdrawal patients collapse in her mother’s arms; she knew exactly what signs to look for. 

“So what does that mean? How do you know they’re…” Lexa paused, yet again unsure of the word Clarke used. 

“In withdrawal? Because when I was here, in the Mountain, we discovered that the reapers were being made by the Mountain Men. They aren’t creatures that roam wild, Lexa. The people here _made_ them. They injected them with... with _something_ to keep them vicious. They could control them however they wanted, but now with the Mountain Men gone, they have no way to get that injection. They lost their high,” Clarke explained, turning her attention back to the screen as Lexa’s gaze followed suit. 

The Commander began to see parallels between Clarke’s explanation and the picture on the screen. She saw reapers agitated and irate, while others were drowsy and physically ill. Clarke was right: they were going through withdrawal. 

“So how long do you think we have here?” Lexa asked. She didn’t want to know. She wasn’t ready to leave Clarke. She wasn’t ready to leave the Mountain quite yet, not with everything she wanted so desperately to say. She held her breath, waiting for an answer. 

Clarke scanned the reapers outside, debating her answer. She knew they only had about a day left before the reapers returned to their normal selves and left the Mountain. A part of her wanted to tell the truth, wanted to answer Lexa’s question honestly and without feeling. Another part of her screamed to lie her ass off, begging her to tell Lexa it would be multiple days before they could leave. Even surrounded by travesty, Clarke felt most comfortable with Lexa around. She didn’t want to lose that feeling again. 

“I would say two or three days at least,” Clarke finally said. She decided to not stretch the truth outlandishly, while giving her time to think. She knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn’t go back now. 

Lexa nodded, relieved that she had more time. She had so many things she wanted to say to Clarke, so many things she wanted to feel again. She wanted the butterflies to return to her stomach at Clarke’s smile. She wanted to feel Clarke’s soft skin beneath her fingertips, over and over again. She wanted Clarke forever, and she wanted Clarke to want her too. 

But for now, a few days would have to be enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter gets fluffy and cute, I promise. It's all written down and planned out. There should be about 11 or 12 chapters in total for this story, so it will be ending soon, unfortunately. If anyone wants to see more writing from me and you have an idea, feel free to comment or message me on tumblr. Until then, you should hear from me again Thursday!
> 
>  
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	9. Just the Beginning

Lexa and Clarke walked back down the hallways in silence, the only sound coming from the low hum of a generator above them. 

“I found a room earlier,” Clarke commented, keeping her eyes downcast. Lexa looked towards her, expecting her to continue. “It has a bed and a shower. I didn’t know if you wanted to...clean up a bit or maybe rest.” She knew Lexa was exhausted; both mentally and physically. She also knew that Lexa hadn’t had a moment to herself, hadn’t had a moment to wash herself clean in a few days. She knew Lexa needed an opportunity to relax, especially after everything. 

“Is there just the one bed?” Lexa asked. She felt stupid the second it left her lips. She knew she sounded as giddy as she felt, and she felt a shot of heat rush to her cheeks, tinting them crimson. Clarke bit her lip to hold back a smile. 

“There is. I’m sure we could find another if…” Clarke trailed off, baiting the Commander. 

“No, that should be fine,” Lexa conceded, finally managing to get her breathing back under control. She made every effort to marble her face, to seem unaffected by the prospect of her and Clarke sharing a bed, sleeping together, being close. She craved it, though she would never admit it out loud. Since last night, when they slept side by side for the first time in months, Lexa felt the desire to be as close to Clarke as she could be crawl deep into her blood and inhibit her like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch. Lying next to Clarke felt like a breath of fresh air, and before last night, Lexa felt as if she hadn’t stepped foot outside in her life. 

Clarke led them back to the bedroom, stopping just a few feet outside the door. Clarke leaned against the wall, and it was then that Lexa noticed beads of sweat forming across her forehead. 

“Clarke? What’s wrong? What hurts?” Lexa searched the girl’s face, silently begging her to open her eyes. Clarke just shook her head. 

“It’s my leg. It just-” Clarke stopped, gritting her teeth. She didn’t want to admit it hurt. She didn’t want to admit she had been struggling with every step back to the bedroom. She didn’t want to admit that she needed to rest, that she needed time to lay down. “I’m okay,” she finally said, looking back towards the concerned Commander, trying to reassure her with just her eyes. Lexa knew she wasn’t going to admit that something was hurting her, so she just nodded slowly and pretended she had no idea what Clarke was hiding. Would Clarke ever talk to her? Would she ever be willing to open up? 

Clarke hissed and continued to walk towards the door. She pushed it open gently, letting Lexa step inside first. 

The look on Lexa’s face made Clarke’s heart flutter feverishly. She was awestruck at the lavishness of the room, and as much as the Commander tried, she couldn’t hide her shining eyes and the slight hitch at the corner of her lip. Clarke took a step behind Lexa, outside of her vision, before smiling. The way Lexa looked at the room made her feel something, something she couldn’t put her finger on. 

She wanted Lexa to look at her that way. 

With the realization of her train of thoughts, Clarke shook her head and cleared her throat, ripping Lexa from her fascinated gaze. 

“The bathroom is through there. If you just give me a second,” Clarke mumbled, her hands already around the knobs of the dresser, pulling it towards her. She rummaged through its contents, her fingers trailing over soft cotton before pulling out a simple, black shirt similar to Clarke’s and a pair of gray sweatpants. She held it up to Lexa as if checking the size before handing the clothes to the brunette with an outstretched hand. 

“You can wear these. The shower is just simple, you just turn the handle and it comes on. If you want it to be hotter just keep turning it.”

Lexa nodded at the instructions before taking the clothes from Clarke’s hand. Her fingertips drifted across pale skin and she felt a shock go through her arm. She turned and went into the bathroom. “Clarke?”

Clarke looked towards the girl who stood nervously in the doorway, picking at a loose thread she had already found at the sleeve of her shirt. “Yeah?” Clarke answered gently, not sure what Lexa was going to ask next. 

“I don’t…” Lexa took a deep breath, refusing to look at Clarke as her ears hummed with embarrassment. Clarke was at the edge of her seat. 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Lexa muttered quietly; so quietly that if Clarke hadn’t been hyperfocused she would’ve missed the brunette’s shaking words. Clarke felt her heart shatter like glass in her chest. As much as she wanted to ignore it, to believe Lexa was still the same monster that left her at Mount Weather, Clarke knew that Lexa was hurting just as much as she was. It disgusted her and saddened her and she was never sure what to do. 

Lexa was in pain, and it hurt Clarke to see her so broken. 

“You can leave the door open a bit if you want,” Clarke finally said back, moving over towards the bed before sitting at the edge of one side. “I’ll be right here.”

Lexa debated whether to move or not. She didn’t entirely trust Clarke to watch after her at her most vulnerable, but she desperately wanted to shower. Her head told her it would be fine, but her feet were welded to the tile floor beneath her. Clarke looked up, blue eyes meeting green, her face ripped bare and exposed, her voice gentle and honest when she spoke next. 

“I promise.” 

 

********************

 

Lexa had been in the shower for a little over fifteen minutes. Clarke was growing anxious on the bed, picking at the skin around her nails. She sat with her legs stretched out in front of her, resting her aching muscles, as her back was pressed against the wooden headboard behind her. She was over the duvet and the satin topsheet, knowing that if she got too comfortable she may just fall asleep. 

The sound of the water coming from the shower eventually lulled Clarke into a feeling of calm, her fingers stilling against themselves and her eyes fluttering to stay awake. She didn’t want to sleep, not when she promised Lexa she would watch over her. She knew it was stupid; she shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. Lexa had made so many promises to her in the past that ended up thrown away in the end, so what did it matter if Clarke kept hers?

Deep down, it did matter. Clarke knew it and so did Lexa. And Clarke hated herself for it. 

Eventually, Clarke’s gaze started to wander as she waited patiently for the girl to be done. For just a moment, her eyes flickered towards the bathroom. For just a moment, she remembered the door was ajar. But it was too late. 

In the large mirror, foggy with steam, Clarke saw the shape of Lexa’s body reflected from the shower. She saw Lexa’s dark skin, her gentle curves, her long, chestnut hair bleeding down her back. The image was hazy, the picture unfocused, but it granted enough information to make Clarke blush and feel a heat between her legs. She wanted to throw up. 

She looked away quickly when she heard the shower turn off, the water no longer dripping down the drain. She pretended to busy herself with her fingers yet again, picking with fervor, trying to make the color in her cheeks return to normal. 

Soon after the shower turned off, Lexa stepped out of the bathroom. Clarke’s breath hitched in her throat. 

She stood barefoot on the tile, her feet balanced and close together. The gray sweatpants Clarke gave her hung loose on her hips and were rolled at the ankles: they may have been a bit big for her thinning frame. The black shirt came up a bit short, exposing a sliver of her tanned, muscular stomach with each breath. Her hair was longer when it was wet, coming down to about her waist. She had swept it all over her left shoulder, exposing a prominent collarbone on the other side, the sleeve of her shirt hanging just off her shoulder blade. Her face was fresh; cleaned and youthful. She had her hands in her hair, untangling a section at the end as she walked out of the bathroom. Her gaze met Clarke’s. 

“Can I sit?” Lexa asked, unsure of what to do now. She felt open and vulnerable, a feeling she didn’t like having. But when Clarke nodded gently, she felt a sigh of relief in her throat.

Lexa sat on the opposite side of the bed, mimicking Clarke’s posture, yet remaining as far apart as possible. It felt tense and uncomfortable and Lexa wanted to scream. The pounding of her heart was so loud it reached her own ears, throbbing incessantly. 

She wanted Clarke to say something; to talk about what happened earlier. She wanted Clarke to open her mouth, to meet her gaze, to stroke her hand like she did the night before. Even at her worst, even if Clarke spat in her face and stabbed a knife in her back, Lexa would still remain grateful that she wasn’t the first to play her hand. She wanted Clarke to make the first move, no matter what it was. She didn’t trust herself to start. 

Time passed through bated breath, both girls reluctant to say anything, their bodies miles away from each other. They mirrored positions, a reflection of sorts, and neither of them dared look at the other. Lexa took a deep breath and went all in. 

“Why did you hesitate?” Her voice was solemn, quiet, almost like she was afraid that volume would collapse the ceiling above them. Clarke bit her lip hard, drawing out the coppery taste from the broken skin. She looked at Lexa who refused to look at her. 

“I don’t know,” Clarke tries. She knows Lexa would never believe that. Lexa saw just as much as she did. Lexa saw Clarke stare between her and the corpses, saw her twirl the knife in her hand. As Lexa struggled for air, Clarke was debating whether or not to turn her back.    
Lexa shifted, turning her body towards Clarke and sitting cross-legged, her hands in her lap. Her hair rolled in waves over her shoulder, dripping water down her shirt and to the tight skin of her arms. Clarke swallowed. 

“When I saw you, I just knew what to do. It felt like I knew what I was doing. I just grabbed the knife and I didn’t think about it. When I went to save you, I just-” Clarke stopped herself, desperate for a breath she forgot to take. She calmed her nerves, feeling the shaking in her hands slow as she relaxed. “I know that you get nightmares too, Lexa. I know you feel the same pain I feel every day. But somehow, it’s still different. I didn’t choose this for myself, and you know that.” Clarke struggled to keep her voice neutral, keeping the venom from slipping through her teeth. Lexa looked away for a second, feeling the guilt crash into her again. Clarke was never going to let her forget this. 

“You left me at Mount Weather. I didn’t have a choice. You left me without a choice, Lexa. You forced me to kill hundreds. And you still had the nerve to tell me that I would abandon you the same way if the tables were turned.” Clarke felt her heart break, her chest aching with memories, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she bore holes into Lexa’s pitiful eyes. She had no right to sit there looking like a kicked puppy. This was her fault. 

“When I froze, and when I thought about it...I don’t know, it just made sense. Blood must have blood, you know?” Lexa tipped her chin down in a nod. She knew it would come to that. She knew Clarke would use her people’s traditions to force the knife back into her chest. She had prepared for it, so the blade stung less this time around. Clarke ran her fingers through her hair. 

“Seeing you there, trapped a-and scared. I felt bad, Lexa. I felt bad because I-” 

She froze, biting her tongue as quickly as she could, stopping the words from tumbling out of her mouth. Lexa’s eyes shot up knowingly. She knew what Clarke was going to say. She was desperate to hear the words, her ears hanging on every breath, every syllable the girl spoke. She wanted Clarke to say that she cared for her. That she loved her. That Clarke loved her in the same way Lexa did. But the words never came. 

“I felt bad because you saved me from the reapers. I figured I should repay you somehow. So now we’re even,” the blonde snapped quickly, finishing the conversation. The hair stood up at the nape of her neck, daring to be abrasive with the Commander in the hopes she could hide what she almost said. It was a futile attempt at best but it was worth a shot. 

Lexa scooted closer to Clarke, making the blonde tense in response. The girls were knee to knee, and Lexa held her breath as she reached out to grab Clarke’s hand that had been neatly folded in her lab, picking at her skin. 

Lexa stroked the back of Clarke’s hand with her thumb, and Clarke nearly whimpered. She felt shudders go down her spine, Lexa’s touch bringing a fire to her skin. Lexa looked up at her. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, careful to keep her eyes locked with Clarke’s. 

“For what, Lexa?” 

Lexa smiled, turning her gaze back towards Clarke’s shaking hand, tracing her fingertips over the pale freckles that were scattered across her skin. “Thank you for saving me. I know you didn’t have to, but it was kind of you to help me.” 

The air shifted around them. It felt as if someone had opened a window and cleaned every corner of the room. It felt fresh and vibrant and innocent. They were both ripped bare, their souls on display and their words tainted with rugged truths. There was no turning back now. 

As Clarke watched Lexa drag her fingers across her hand painfully slow, the solid feeling of the rock settled back into her chest comfortably, pinching at her lungs. It was a rock she wanted to turn over, to throw back, to hide somewhere. But everytime she ignored it, it came back larger than before. 

She was in love with Lexa. She would never say anything; she didn’t think she could if she even tried. But as Lexa sat in front of her, laying her heart out to Clarke even as she sat in a more vulnerable position than she was used to, Clarke recognized the same girl she remembered from months ago. The girl she thought she had lost. 

The girl who sat watch overnight and through the day just so Clarke could get some rest. The girl who jumped through forests and threw knives at strong men just to save her. The girl who pulled her in gently by the nape of her neck and collapsed into her lips, desperately searching Clarke for a glimmer of hope or the tenderness of mutual attraction. That girl sat before her on the bed in a black shirt and sweatpants. That girl presented her face without makeup or war paint and dared to show Clarke the rawness of her emotions. She wanted Clarke to trust her again, more than anything else in the world. 

Clarke felt the rock in her chest crumble, her breathing coming easier and lighter. She did trust Lexa. She trusted her enough to love her, and that was the scariest thing Clarke could ever do. 

Lexa looked back up towards Clarke’s shining eyes, pausing her movements, scanning Clarke’s face for a sign that she had overstepped a boundary. She had a tendency to do that. 

Instead, Clarke smiled at her. A genuine smile, the first one Lexa had seen in a long time. 

Lexa promised herself that she would do everything in her power to make Clarke smile like that again. 

The compassion and humanity that lingered in front of them like a thin veil felt real and warm; the feeling cascading down their bodies like rays from the sun. Lexa smiled back, hopeful this wasn’t the end, and it was just the beginning. 

Without warning, the glass was shattered around them as Lexa’s stomach growled loudly, a cacophony filling the room. Clarke launched into hysterics, throwing her head back as Lexa blushed profusely. Even through the embarrassment, her eyes shined with adoration for the playful girl in front of her. The laugh echoed like windchimes in her ears and she felt drunk on the sound. 

Clarke came back to earth with a throaty chuckle, shaking her head. 

“Let’s find you something to eat, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. The next chapter is the fluff and smut so be prepared. I have written a few scenes in advance and I'm prepared to make the next chapter as sweet as possible since they deserve it. As always, comment, leave a kudos, and share. Let me know if any questions come up, you're always welcome to contact me at my other social media as well. Let me know what you guys think, I wasn't sure about this chapter!
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	10. Begging Heaven for Entrance

Clarke had forgotten what clean steel smelled like. It was metallic and strong, a chemical presence lingering in the air. It held reflections like a mirror, shining light back into your eyes like a lighthouse. When Clarke walked into the kitchen, she was nearly blinded, her senses on overload.

She was surrounded by steel appliances from floor to ceiling, cupboards and ovens towering over them, stacking on top of each other to make more room for kitchen staff. The only contrast from the clean metal was the black and white checkered floor beneath them, the tile cold against their bare feet.

“We should check in one of the cupboards, there’s got to be something to eat,” Clarke muttered to Lexa, who stood behind her transfixed by the elaborate kitchen. It was something she had never seen before, the sharp edges and silver aesthetic overwhelming at first. They moved over the threshold and entered the kitchen fully, Clarke a few steps ahead of Lexa.

Clarke picked a row of cupboards that had five doors stacked up vertically, each door revealing a new shelf. Once she reached the third door, sitting just above her head, she found bags of stale bread and boxes of saltines. Her stomach screamed at the sight.

The blonde reached up on her tiptoes, the boxes of crackers just out of reach. She grunted with the effort, stretching her arm as far as it could go. Behind her, she heard the throaty laugh of the Commander, the sound making her pout as she lowered herself back to the ground fully.

“You reach them then,” Clarke huffed, pushing a lock of hair from her face and stepping back. Lexa looked at her cockily, one eyebrow upturned as she calmly reached one hand up into the cupboard, grabbing the box of crackers without a single stretch, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s. She brought her hand down, presenting the box to the blonde without a word. Their height difference wasn’t drastic by any means, but Lexa definitely sat a few inches taller and used her long arms to her advantage. Clarke nearly slapped the smirk from her lips.

“Thanks,” Clarke grumbled under her breath, taking the box and opening it up to inspect the contents. Lexa peered over her shoulder, immensely interested in whatever could be in the bright blue container.

“They look good. They might be a little dry, but they’ll do for now.” Clarke put a sleeve of crackers back into the box and closed the top, latching it with the cardboard tab and folding it under her arm. Lexa had no idea what those were, so she had no idea whether or not they would taste bad. She feigned understanding and nodded her head, looking around the kitchen again.

“Hold these,” Clarke said, snapping Lexa back into focus. She grabbed the box of crackers from Clarke before the blonde began rummaging through drawers and opening more doors. “I would kill for some coffee,” she whispered to herself, obviously distracted by her innate desire for caffeine. “Coffee?” Lexa asked, putting the food on the steel countertop in front of her, resting her hands against the edge as she watched Clarke with focused eyes, drinking in the sight of Clarke acting human again; acting like herself again.

“You don’t know what coffee is?” Clarke asked, freezing her hands to turn and look at Lexa’s confused face. There was a slight wrinkle in her nose, and it made Clarke laugh. The Commander, Heda of her people, the leader of twelve clans, had never heard of coffee--and really hated feeling confused.

“Now I really need to find some.”

Lexa shook her head, letting the girl go back to her flustered search, the sounds of slamming drawers filling the space with loud echoes that hurt Lexa’s ears. Within minutes, a victorious cry from Clarke startled Lexa, watching as the blonde held up her fist in triumph at her find, a dark red, plastic bag clutched in her grip. She turned towards Lexa with a smile traced over her lips, knocking the wind from Lexa’s lungs.

“Coffee,” Clarke said, walking back towards the table where Lexa stood, throwing the bag across the steel top. It slid down effortlessly to Lexa’s hands that rested gently on the table, barely grazing the tips of her fingers; a perfect shot as usual.

Above the girls sat a copper pot rack, different sizes of pots and pans hanging from golden hooks at the ends. Clarke reached up and snagged the edge of one, a pot that had a small, circular base and deep sides, easily able to hold the amount of water Clarke needed to boil. She brought it down to her eyes, inspecting the insides, before walking over to a steel sink and filling it halfway with crystal clear water. Lexa watched her every move, every sway in her hips as she walked, a slight blush creeping up her chest and into the tips of her ears. Her hunger pains subsided as she kept her gaze steady on the blonde. She was more interested in Clarke than she was in eating.

“It should be just a minute,” Clarke said as she placed the pot on the stovetop and ignited a burner, a bright, hot flame reaching out and wrapping its fingers around the sides of the cookware.

“Wanna open that for me?” Clarke asked, gesturing lazily towards the bag that still sat at Lexa’s frozen fingers. The brunette cleared her throat and nodded, her hand shaking as she reached towards the coffee bag. She tore a corner off with her nail and handed it to Clarke without looking. Clarke noticed the change in atmosphere, the change in mood. It wasn’t negative; it wasn’t a bad change. Instead, it held a feeling of tenderness and hesitation. Clarke could hear Lexa’s pounding heart from a few feet away. She smiled knowingly, and purposefully grazed her fingertips against Lexa’s hand as she took the bag from her, watching as a shiver ran up Lexa’s bare arm and down her covered spine. She dumped the contents of the bag into the water and watched as it slowly boiled into a dark brown color.

“We used to have coffee on the ark,” Clarke said, her eyes focused on the flame in front of her. “It’s good, I promise. We used to drink it to keep us awake, but I like to drink it because it’s warm.” She paused, mesmerized by the boiling coffee. “It reminds me of home.”

If they were ever going to get anywhere, if Clarke was ever going to trust Lexa again, she had to put forth at least an ounce of effort. As much as the tiny voice in the back of her head seethed at the idea of Clarke and Lexa getting along, building another acquaintanceship from the ground up, Clarke knew it was the only way they were going to survive together. She had feelings for Lexa that were undeniable, growing in strength with every breath the Commander took. For now, they would have to at least get along. Clarke had to try.

“It’s done.”

Clarke’s soft voice snapped Lexa from her absent minded trance, looking towards the blonde standing in front of an extinguished flame at the stove with a hand on her hip. “Do you mind grabbing those cups over there? By the sink?” Clarke raised a finger towards a granite countertop on the opposite side, pointing towards a rack of ceramic mugs with cheesy slogans and bright colors; souvenir mugs from another time.

Lexa handed her two random ones, and as Clarke turned a cup over in her hand, she grinned to herself. She held a hot pink mug in her left hand, the handle curving smoothly. The inside had been painted with white glaze, the outside randomly scattered with little white dots. In the other hand, she held a mug reading “I love New York”, with the ‘love’ represented by a bright red heart. It was whimsical and childish, but the innocence made Clarke smile nonetheless. She filled them both halfway and handed the pink mug to Lexa.

“Shall we?” Clarke asked, gesturing back towards the door they entered through. Lexa smiled and nodded, picking up the box of crackers left on the table and walking forwards. Clarke followed, the handle of her mug clenched tightly in her hand. She turned out the lights before closing the door, and they both walked back to the room in silence.

 

********************

 

The bedroom was filled with warmth as the girls sat side by side, legs spread in front of them carelessly, sipping the warm drinks in their mugs and settling into the pillows behind them.

“This is really good,” Lexa commented, taking another sip. It felt like hot coals in her chest, warming her from the inside and lighting a fire inside of her. She felt settled, comforted, sitting beside the girl who introduced her to it. Clarke smiled at her before drinking her own until there were just drops left in the bottom of ceramic. She set the mug on the bedside table and opened a sleeve of crackers, placing it between her legs and Lexa’s.

Clarke ate absentmindedly, her eyes drifting and her brain blissfully empty. Her stomach growled at the food, finally satisfied and sedated. A weak voice cracked the glass around her.

“I’m sorry, Clarke.”

Clarke stopped eating, her attention fully focused on the girl beside her. She set her food down beside her mug and turned her body to face the Commander, sitting cross-legged with her hands in her lap. Stray locks of blonde hair were draped gently in front of her eyes, and Lexa clenched her fist to resist tucking them behind her ear.

The silence was deafening for Lexa, and without her own cup of coffee to fiddle with as a distraction from the inevitable tension she created, she felt exposed.

“I know I haven’t really said it. But I am. I know what I did that night is unforgivable. I know you might not believe me. But I truly am sorry Clarke.” Lexa’s eyes stung with tears, salt biting at the corners of her lids as she held her tongue, waiting for Clarke’s response--if she even had one.

Clarke sighed, running her fingers through her hair. She really didn’t want to hear this. Not now. She desperately needed to ignore what happened, to ignore the past between them. That was her way of moving on. Facing Lexa meant facing her demons, and she wasn’t ready to fight with both.

“Thank you,” Clarke finally whispered back, meeting Lexa’s pleading gaze. She gave the girl a soft smile, blue eyes shining with honesty. She really was thankful Lexa had apologized, no matter how much she didn’t want to hear it.

Clarke watched Lexa curiously as the brunette bit her lip, her powerful facade wavering, dropping like a stage curtain. Clarke watched as Lexa stripped her skin naked and exposed her heart to the world without a single look of uncertainty.

“I didn’t know if I would live after Costia’s death,” she started, picking at the skin around her nails, the pain distracting her from the tears threatening to spill. Clarke just watched the display of emotions rolling across Lexa’s face in waves; this was not her place to speak.

“She was all that I had for a long time. I had Anya as my mentor, but it wasn’t the same as what I had found with Costia.” She paused, taking a deep breath. Her eyes closed before she continued, willing her heart to slow. No one had heard the story of Costia’s death and their relationship, not even Titus. Titus often prided himself on knowing private details about the Heda, but Lexa had never spoke a word of her relationship to him. She had unlocked Pandora’s Box and offered Clarke the chaos within. Clarke was the earth, willing and receptive, guiding Lexa’s contents with open arms and open ears. For that, Lexa was thankful, as this moment was hard enough for her.

“We spent every waking moment together for years. We did everything together. I let her out of my sight one time-”

Lexa felt herself get flustered again, an anger growing inside of her chest, replacing the muted flame within her into a hot, searing pain. Clarke saw the panic grow across her face and reacted instinctively, her heart wrenching at her own action before she could stop it.

She grabbed Lexa’s hands between her own, locking their fingers together in hopes it would settle the Commander’s racing heart.

Lexa felt the breath leave her lungs as she watched her fingers blend with Clarke’s. When she realized Clarke had no intention of letting go, when she realized Clarke was doing this to soothe her instead of trick her, she relaxed, finding the words to continue somewhere in the loving haze that clouded her mind.

“First, Costia died. I had to bear witness to that, and I still can’t unsee it. Then, I lost Anya. I lost everyone I love, Clarke.” Lexa squeezed the hand wrapped in hers and looked up towards the blonde, locking green with blue. She felt frozen in time: hearing Clarke’s steady heartbeat, feeling the gentle strokes against her thumb, reveling in the warmth of Clarke’s breath that she felt against her face.

“Not everyone,” she said, suddenly backtracking. Clarke looked at her with a confused gaze, her eyebrow furrowed just slightly as the soothing circles she painted along Lexa’s skin never stopped.

“Not you.”

Clarke felt her heart race, her pulse flutter, her strokes falter a bit against Lexa’s hand. Lexa’s voice was tender, kindhearted, and honest. She smiled at the Commander, as the Commander smiled back.

“Anyway,” she continued, turning her gaze from Clarke’s piercing eyes back to their locked hands. “When I was in that room with all of those people, those people that I helped kill...It feels like I can’t ever escape it. I can’t ever escape death. It’s just around me all of the time and I can’t stop it,” Lexa continued, her voice growing frantic, Clarke’s touch no longer settling her. Her brain was filled with too many thoughts, her mouth not moving fast enough to voice them all at once. She forced herself to take a breath, to calm herself, to return her face to stone. “I’m just sorry I ever put you through that, Clarke.”

Clarke stopped stroking Lexa’s hand and retracted her own, the Commander nearly sobbing at the loss. Instead of pulling it back into her lap, receding back into herself at the vulnerability that smothered her, Clarke left her arm outstretched, all of her fingers open.

“The only way we’re going to survive in here for the next few days is if we get along. As much as I hate what you did to me, what you put me through...I understand why you did it. You couldn’t lose anymore of your people, not after losing the ones closest to you. For now, a truce. Starting from scratch. Let’s try again.”

Lexa watched Clarke intently, searching her eyes for deceit as she made her speech, her hand never wavering. Instead, all she found was pain and blue eyes filled with rhapsodic truths. To start again would mean a clean slate, ripping away at the bricks and exposing the bare structures underneath. It would mean stripping them both of animosity, but also of ardent emotions--the kind that urged Lexa to kiss Clarke one afternoon on a whim. Lexa wasn’t sure if she wanted to give Clarke up just yet, but she was willing to chase her again. She would chase Clarke until her lungs gave out.

Lexa reached out her hand and wrapped her slender fingers around Clarke’s forearm as Clarke did the same with hers; a grounder’s handshake.

Time stood still. Both girls smiled.

 

********************

 

It must’ve been early morning, just before dawn. Clarke had no way of knowing without windows, but her internal clock was usually pretty accurate. She laid in bed, staring at the bare ceiling above her. The duvet was wrapped around her up to her chest, her hands folded together across her covered stomach. She hadn’t gotten any sleep; how could she when her mind was racing like it was?

As much as it pained her to admit it, forgiveness was the best thing she could offer Lexa. It was the best thing she could offer herself. Their truce lifted a weight off of Clarke’s shoulders, a weight so heavy it was agonizing. She felt like she could breathe again.

Her next mission was to sort her emotions out one by one, starting with her feelings for the Commander.

Clarke had never remembered feeling this way before. It was foreign and harrowing to her, making her stomach hurt with confusion. She had never felt this way about Finn. Even at their best, even before Raven, Clarke had never felt the same twinge in her chest at Finn’s toothy grin, or the same shudder down her spine at a simple touch. Her feelings for Lexa landed her on treacherous ground, and she was careful to watch where she stepped.

More than anything, she wondered if Lexa felt it too.

A whimper drew Clarke’s attention back to earth. She turned her head towards the brunette laying a few inches from her. Lexa had her back turned towards Clarke, her brown locks splayed against the pillows behind her, tickling Clarke’s right cheek. Clarke rolled over onto her side and raised her body with her elbow, watching Lexa as she slept.

Lexa’s breathing was elevated, her fists clenched around the sheets in front of her chest. Her legs twitched against the mattress, nearly shaking the entire bed. She whimpered again, crying out gently, the sound making Clarke’s heart clench. The Commander was in pain. The visions behind her eyelids battled her in a contest of wits, and Lexa was losing.

Suddenly, Lexa sat up with a gasp, her hair moving over her shoulders to cover her face with a few stray locks. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she backed up closer to the headboard, leaning her back against the wood and closing her eyes again, swallowing hard. She ran her shaking fingers through her hair, her neck damp with sweat.

“Lexa?” Clarke asked gently. To Lexa, Clarke’s voice was like a lighthouse in the fog, drawing her from inside her head back into reality--a reality where she was mere inches from the most beautiful girl in the world. She opened her eyes and turned her gaze towards Clarke’s, seeing concern flood the blonde’s soft features.

“Lexa, what was that about? Did you have a nightmare?”

Lexa shook her head, biting her lip. “No it...I don’t know,” Lexa muttered under her breath, her head foggy and alert. Clarke almost begged the girl to talk to her, wanting to soothe Lexa in any way she could. She nearly cursed herself for her natural empathy.

“I-it was you. You...you stabbed me like you stabbed that reaper. You just stared at me, Clarke. You just laughed and you stared and I couldn’t...I couldn’t-”

Clarke reached for Lexa’s shaking hand again, wrapping her fingers around the Commander’s with a gentle hush and a reassuring voice.

“You’re okay, Lex. I promise you’re alright.”

The nickname slipped out before Clarke could stop it. It shocked them both.

Lexa looked up at the blonde questioningly; her heart was the only thing moving. Clarke bit her lip, nearly drawing blood. She took a deep breath before meeting Lexa’s gaze in the darkness of the room.

Between them, only the dim light from the bathroom illuminated their faces in an orange glow. Between them, only shaking breaths were shared. Between them, their heartbeats echoed as one, timed perfectly together as they both sat frozen on the bed.

Without warning, Clarke leaned forward and captured Lexa’s lips in a kiss so strong it shook her bones. Love radiated from both of them in that instant, their feelings dripping into each other until they were both drenched with adoration.

The feeling of love was lost on Lexa, unsure of her own steps and the beating of her heart. She had never been one to put someone else first, to care so deeply about someone’s safety and wellbeing that she would willingly sabotage her own. She reminded herself quickly that even the moon hides away to let the sun shine.

Her feelings shook her to her core, her head spinning with lust. Clarke had a sharp tongue and a quick wit, with the kind of eyes that shimmered with love, even as she plunged a knife deep into your back. Lexa would do anything for her.

If Clarke wanted to sing, Lexa would open the windows so the whole world could hear it.

If Clarke wanted to dance, she would sell the furniture to make a dance floor.

If Clarke wanted to cry, she would sink to the floor and cry with her so she wasn’t alone.

And if Clarke ever got the opportunity to wrap her hands around Lexa’s throat, Lexa would stare back lovingly, just happy to be touched by her.

The power Clarke had over her was frightening and ethereal and she was drunk on the taste of the girl’s soft lips; the lips that wrapped her in heaven and promised her entrance.

Clarke’s love was fiery at best, a flame that could burn down cities and rip paint from cars.

Lexa wanted it to ravage her.

Clarke tangled her hands in Lexa’s hair, her lips moving in time with the Commander’s. Lexa felt a tear slip from her eye, her body shaking with want. She wanted this more than anything. She wanted Clarke more than anything. So when the blonde pulled away, Lexa nearly shattered.

Clarke searched Lexa’s eyes nervously after tasting salt on her lips. Their eyes met, the earth meeting the sea, and Lexa understood why Clarke pulled away.

She was asking for permission.

The girl who commanded attention from any room she entered, the girl who shook her head disapprovingly at whimsy but indulged in it herself from time to time just to feel like a kid again, the girl who put everyone before herself--that same girl softened her features, relaxed her muscles, and yielded to the shivering girl in front of her.

Little did Clarke know, she was knocking on the door before entering her own home.

Lexa just smiled through a slight nod, and pulled Clarke’s lips back to hers with a soft hand on her neck.

Lexa felt as if she entered Eden when she felt Clarke roll them both, Lexa’s back hitting the mattress below her as Clarke settled comfortably against the Commander’s stomach, knees bent at Lexa’s ribcage. Lexa drank wine from the chalice of the gods as Clarke’s tender kisses moved from her lips to her neck. She felt her hands itch with bravery as she ran her hands up Clarke’s back underneath her shirt, feeling the bare skin against her fingertips. It sent shockwaves through her arms and she drowned in the feeling of Clarke’s skin against her own.

Without asking, Clarke pulled away from Lexa, setting her back straight without looking down at the shaking girl below her. Instead, Clarke gripped the hem of her shirt with both hands, pulling it up and off of her body, exposing herself to Lexa in the most intimate way. Lexa’s eyes darkened with desire, and it surprised Clarke that her actions failed to make her feel vulnerable or trapped. Instead, she felt warmth and desire and love and lust and everything in between. When Lexa gazed at her half-naked body with eyes that screamed adoration, she felt like royalty.

Lexa knew that Clarke’s confidence would be short-lived. Clarke doesn’t think she’s beautiful and she doesn’t know she’s exquisite but gods did Lexa want her so.

Instead of etching every inch of Clarke’s skin into her mind, studying every freckle and every mark with a heavy breath, she leaned forwards and wrapped her lips around Clarke’s pulse point, her kisses as light as feathers, desperate to convey her love for Clarke in any way she could. She owed her that.

Lexa felt fingers tangle in her long hair, feeling Clarke’s breath hitch under her lips.

Clarke swore she could feel every cell in her body. She felt electric and radiant, the room around them turning from a cage into a halcyon. She dipped her hands down the back of Lexa’s shirt as she felt the brunette’s lips move slowly across her collarbones. The warmth from Lexa’s tanned skin against her fingers ignited a fire within Clarke’s heart, burning every doubt she had into ash.

Clarke held the universe at her fingertips and when she touched Lexa, she swore she could finally see the stars again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Let me know what you thought of this chapter. I've been writing it for a while and it still doesn't feel perfect but I definitely tried. I tried to make it as innocent and loving as possible.  
> The next chapter will be the M rating, so definitely prepare.  
> As always, leave comments and questions; I love validation. 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	11. Woman of the Earth, Child of the Stars

Lexa felt like she couldn’t breathe. Clarke’s lips were far, too far away. They were kissing and nipping down the slender column of her neck and she felt like she was drowning. Clarke nipped above her pulse, driving her teeth into the skin gently, bruising the surface before soothing it with her tongue. Lexa gasped, desperate to get air back into her lungs, desperate to crest the surface of the ocean that held her down. 

Growing brave, Lexa returned her slender fingers around Clarke’s neck and pulled her roughly back to her lips, colliding like lightning and melting like snow. Lexa felt her lungs open up like angel’s wings at the taste of Clarke’s tender lips; she could finally breathe again. 

Clarke ached for Lexa, her heart throbbing deep in her chest. Her fingers itched to expose Lexa’s body to the room around them, her eyes burning behind her lids as they begged and pleaded to see the Commander’s naked body writhing beneath them. Instead, Clarke collapsed into Lexa’s touch, into her loving kiss and gentle grasp. Her lips moved with the brunette’s, slow and languid, exploring instead of conquering. There was no need for the pillage of villages or the abolishment of tyrants. In this moment, it was just Clarke and Lexa. The brunette was genial and soft, the sharp green of her gaze flickering with something that caught Clarke’s eye before ripping her heart to shreds.

It was the flickering of hope. Hope that this was the turning point, leaning over the cliff towards the precipice of collapse while strong arms held them safely from the edge. This was the Lexa that Clarke had yearned for for days on end. As the strong Commander’s presence dissipated with each gasping breath and soothing whimper, Clarke felt the love inside her bloom open like a wildflower, begging to be picked by compassionate hands. 

Clarke tangled her fingers in Lexa’s chestnut locks, scratching her nails down Lexa’s scalp, feeling the girl tremble in her hands. She heard Lexa gasp against her lips and it only fed the fire within her stomach. 

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered against shaking lips and heady breaths. Clarke pulled herself away from Lexa’s devouring touch only slightly, though it didn’t help the shattering sadness she felt as their lips were separated yet again. She willed Lexa to look at her, and Clarke sighed a deep breath of relief as she found herself staring into hazy green eyes. 

For only a moment, there was a silence that screamed in their ears, settling like a heavy fog over the dense forests of temporary doubt they had between them. Lexa felt panicked and unsure, staring up into Clarke’s darkened eyes, waiting patiently for inevitable rejection. Lexa felt it coming; she knew Clarke too well. She knew Clarke was debating whether or not she wanted this, whether or not it was virtuous. If Lexa had to beg for heavenly forgiveness in order to taste Clarke’s sweetness again, then Lexa consented to bowing before her window every night for the rest of her life without a second thought. 

“I need you.”

Lexa felt the words settle in her ears, repeating them over and over in her head as she stared longingly at Clarke, who remained firmly seated in her lap. Desperate to pull Lexa out of her own head, Clarke reached down with shaking hands, grasping the Commander’s fingers within her own, before placing Lexa’s hands on her own hips, letting the brunette feel her bare skin. She felt Lexa sigh beneath her, and she let slip a throaty chuckle that sent shivers down Lexa’s spine. 

“I’m yours,” Lexa murmured back, her grasp around Clarke’s hips growing tighter as her fingers pressed into soft flesh. Without hesitation, without asking permission, Clarke delved down again, melding her lips with Lexa’s as flames licked at her closed eyelids. She unconsciously ground her hips into Lexa’s stomach, drawing the first moan from the Commander’s lips. Clarke felt flashes of heat soar through her bones; she was determined to hear that sound again, as many times as she could draw it out. Clarke smiled deviously against Lexa’s mouth, tightening her grip in Lexa’s hair before grinding her hips downwards with purpose, pressing her bare breasts closer to Lexa’s covered chest. The whine that escaped Lexa’s lips, the lips that clung desperately to Clarke’s, was provocative and enticing, dripping sensuality like a fine elixir that begged Clarke to have a taste. The blonde suddenly grew ravenous. 

“Off,” Clarke mumbled against Lexa’s soft lips. “I want it off.”

Clarke’s fingers moved deftly under Lexa’s shirt, tugging at the fabric as a silent plea for the brunette to expose herself. Lexa kissed lovingly at the underside of Clarke’s jaw, satisfied with the whimper that followed, before pulling off her own shirt and throwing it to the floor unceremoniously. 

A gentle hand on her shoulder encouraged Lexa to lie back, her spine hitting the mattress as her head hit the pillow below her. She was at the mercy of the sky girl, her body exposed and vulnerable. The thought of being at Clarke’s mercy blended with the feeling of submission that settled deep within her chest at the sight of the blonde still sitting upright in her lap, the soft hand that settled so close to her neck making her thighs shake. An unfamiliar heat coiled between her legs, agonizingly addictive and tantalizingly euphoric; Lexa only wanted more. 

Clarke swallowed hard, and Lexa noticed her cornflower eyes grow as dark as the night sky, drinking in the sight of Lexa’s naked chest that had been displayed openly beneath her. Clarke’s mouth watered at the sight and she wasted no time in leaning down, drawing her lips down Lexa’s heated skin, dipping her tongue into the valleys of Lexa’s clavicle and through the plains of her sternum. Clarke took her sweet time, feeling the Commander shake and quiver beneath her touch as she mapped and memorized the tan skin, etching it into her lips through tender kisses and unheard whispers of devotion. Reducing Lexa to such a beautiful mess made Clarke’s heart clench with love, the truest form of love she had ever felt. Lexa trusted her enough to be exposed, to willingly offer herself up to Clarke’s hungry eyes, and there was no greater feeling of compassion Clarke had ever felt. 

The Commander of twelve clans felt safest in the arms of a girl who fell from the sky and ripped the world down with her. Through the chaos they had witnessed, through the defeat they both had felt, Lexa had never once taken her eyes off of the girl who was made from the stars. 

Clarke was determined to make Lexa accept the virtue of patience, her lips drawing gentle gasps from the Commander’s shaking lungs. Clarke kissed down Lexa’s bare chest, feeling the brunette move her slender fingers from her hips to the sheets at their sides, clenching the satin into tight fists instead. Clarke grew bolder, a smirk playing at her lips. She drew a shallow breath before closing her lips around Lexa’s breast, satisfied with the sounds it emitted. 

Lexa’s knuckles grew white as her fingers clutched madly at the sheets below her. She was desperate to stay grounded; a fleeting hope, she realized, since she never felt grounded with Clarke. She always felt like she was flying. This time was no exception. She felt Clarke draw languid circles around her nipples, alternating breasts and causing a heat so grand to swell in the pit of her stomach. Her skin erupted into gooseflesh, the baby hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She gripped harder at the satin. 

“Lexa,” Clarke muttered against Lexa’s breast. Her voice was sultry and compelling, forcing Lexa to focus on nothing but the blonde’s words. Clarke raised her brow, meeting Lexa’s unwavering gaze from above her. She smiled soothingly, raising a hand to stroke up and down Lexa’s bare side, tracing her fingertips along each and every scar she felt. 

“You can touch me, it’s okay.”

Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes never leaving Clarke’s. Clarke wanted to be touched. Clarke wanted Lexa to be the one to touch her. Clarke, the raging fire that burned through forests and sent ash to the night sky, allowed herself to be put out--to be smothered for the love of another. Lexa nodded deliberately, unclenching her tight fists and drawing them back up to Clarke’s hips, fingers shaking with desire and anxiety. 

Clarke sighed happily, eyes closing as she felt Lexa touching her again. The warmth radiating from the brunette calmed her greatly, the calloused hands dragging lazily up her sides akin to feeling at home. She made soft mewling sounds against Lexa’s breast, encouraging the girl to touch her wherever she pleased. In the space between them, there was no room for battles of dominance or feelings of resentment. Instead, room was only made for tentative exploration and honest truths. 

Clarke kissed down Lexa’s taut abdomen, sucking and nipping around her exposed ribcage, emboldened by the provocative sounds Lexa made through tight lips: she was still holding back. Though Clarke felt slightly disheartened at every concealed noise Lexa made, she knew the brunette’s pain was much worse. She was still fighting a battle within herself, between showing weakness and indulging in love. Clarke knew how to throw Lexa from the edge. 

Deft fingers grasped at the waistband of Lexa’s sweatpants, and a wave of heat shot through Lexa’s thighs. Clarke’s lips remained locked to her abdomen, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses across rippling muscles and raised scars. The blonde began to pull down Lexa’s pants, slowly and with purpose, causing Lexa to dig her fingers into Clarke’s side. The blonde hissed at the pressure, but relished in their origin. She was starting to break apart Lexa’s strong facade piece by piece, and a feeling of pride swelled in her chest. 

She dragged Lexa’s pants and underwear down to her ankles before pulling them off completely, throwing them to the floor beside the bed. Clarke sat back on her heels between Lexa’s legs, admiring the sight before her. 

Lexa was fully exposed, her skin glistening under the faint light from the bathroom. Her hands were forced to leave Clarke’s sides as the blonde moved farther away from her, and they now hung limply at her sides, fiddling with the sheets between two fingers. Her chest heaved powerfully, desperate to draw as much air as she could, feeling the wind get knocked from her lungs with every kiss and every touch Clarke delivered. Finally, Clarke met Lexa’s innocent gaze, the green screaming with vulnerability and insecurity. This was the final act, the drawing of the curtain. Lexa teetered on the precipice of weakness and devotion before Clarke’s eyes, and Clarke itched to reach her hands out to push her over the edge. Thankfully, she was granted the opportunity. 

Lexa moved her arms, but only slightly. The move was not lost on Clarke. Her arms were moving to tighten around her body, a motion meant to cover her naked self from Clarke’s studied gaze. Her fingers twitched, her arms a bit closer to her sides. 

She was desperate to hide herself, to hide in the shadows instead of presenting center stage. Clarke’s eyes felt like fire and heat and burns and her body was ignited with a faint red blush of embarrassment. She hadn’t let anyone see her like this, not since Costia. She was aware of what her body looked like, and she knew how it must’ve looked to Clarke. Her torso was littered with scars; some deep and some shallow, some wrapping along her stomach while others were the size of mere pins. Her tanned skin was bruised and darkened from continuous fractures and inappropriately-reset bones. She hated looking at herself in the mirror, so much so that any full length mirror in her quarters had been removed years ago. As she laid helpless under Clarke’s gaze, as the blonde sat so far from her, not touching her or offering comfort, she felt bile rise in her throat and tears prick at her eyes. Clarke was the first mirror she had seen, and she swore she saw disgust looking back. 

Before Lexa could move her arms further, before she could turn her head and close in on herself, Clarke spoke with a voice dripping in sincerity and twinged with tears. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered into the darkness of the room. Lexa felt the shock in her veins at the words she hadn’t expected to hear. 

Clarke reached forward with a shaking hand, running her fingers down Lexa’s bare thigh, drawing circles across the skin as she got drunk on the sight of Lexa’s naked body beneath her. The view was intoxicating, and Clarke ran her gaze over the naked girl with a heavy heart and eyes full of love. 

“Nothing like you,” Lexa whispered back. Half of her wanted Clarke to hear her strained silence, while the other half hoped her words went over Clarke’s head. The blonde stopped stroking the skin of Lexa’s thighs, bringing her gaze back up to meet green. She heard every word. Lexa saw a small smile tease the corners of Clarke’s lips, and her heart nearly melted. 

Clarke crawled upwards like a lion hunting its prey, her eyes hungry and dominant. Lexa swallowed hard, not daring to take her eyes off of the powerful girl above her. Clarke settled her half-naked body on top of Lexa’s once again, running her hand up Lexa’s sharp jawline before pulling her in for another kiss; gentler and sweeter than the last few. 

After a few minutes, Lexa grew anxious, whimpering against Clarke’s lips. It made the blonde chuckle before getting the message. She left Lexa’s pouty lips, swollen with lust, before kissing and licking her way back down Lexa’s naked body. She felt the Commander’s abs ripple under her tongue with each stroke, felt the muscles in her legs tighten as she got closer to the apex of her thighs. 

“Please,” Lexa gasped, feeling Clarke get closer to the heat between her legs. The throbbing was incessant, bordering on painful. A sheen of sweat appeared over her abdomen, her entire body flooded with warmth, even as the air around them remained stagnant. 

“Please what?” Clarke asked with a menacing grin, kissing the inside of Lexa’s thighs, her eyes never leaving the brunette’s pained face. 

Lexa drew her bottom lip between her teeth, staring back at Clarke with blown pupils. 

“Clarke,” Lexa sighed. Her bravery evaded her. The courage she had when they first kissed was foreign now, a shadow of herself before the Mountain; before her feelings for Clarke exploded into something more than she could’ve imagined. She fought with herself, biting at her lip, legs shaking under Clarke’s gentle mouth. She couldn’t look weak. She couldn’t. The last shred of the Commander she had within her fought every ounce of her being, begging and pleading that she remain stoic. She knew that once she let Clarke see her, once Clarke had that power over her, it was all over. There was no going back. Lexa felt the edge beneath her toes. 

“Lex...you’re okay. It’s just me.” Clarke whispered soothing words against the taut skin of her legs, kissing back up her thighs to her lower stomach. She needed Lexa with her. She needed all of Lexa with her. If that meant taking her time, she would worship every inch of Lexa’s body before moving forwards. 

“Clarke,” Lexa tried again, swallowing the bitterness she felt in her throat as tears sprang to her eyes. Clarke stopped her ministrations, raising her eyes back to Lexa’s, allowing her space to voice her thoughts. If Lexa decided to leap, Clarke wanted to be there to catch her. 

Lexa took a deep breath before jumping. 

“Take me.” 

The words came out in a heavy breath that turned into a strangled cry as Clarke wasted no time. The blonde was determined to reward Lexa for being open and vulnerable with her in any way she could. She swiftly moved her lips downwards, licking a long stripe up Lexa’s dripping length. Lexa grasped at the sheets, gasping for air. Clarke’s wet tongue against her sex reduced her to a violent, shaking mess, her body nearly keening to get both closer and further away from the powerful strokes. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around each of Lexa’s thighs, bending them upwards and forcing them still, trapping Lexa’s heat against her mouth. She drew tight circles against Lexa’s clit, drawing out muted whimpers from the brunette’s quivering lips. 

Clarke held herself between Lexa’s legs and licked like she had never eaten in her life. Lexa’s sweet taste flooded her tongue and caused a throaty moan to leave her lips, the vibrations causing Lexa to cry out and wrap slender fingers in a mess of blonde hair. Clarke felt Lexa’s nails dig into her scalp, and while painful, it only egged her on. She smiled against Lexa’s clit before alternating zig-zag patterns and playful strokes. 

Before long, Clarke unhooked her left hand from Lexa’s thigh, bringing it downwards tentatively. She raised her eyes to Lexa’s strained face, slowing her movements to get Lexa to open her eyes. Once Lexa felt the pace slow between her thighs, she felt a pitiful whimper leave her lips before she could stop it. She could feel the tight knot in her stomach grow, a rubber band ready to snap. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking back the lustful fog that clouded them, daring to look down and meet Clarke’s gaze. The blonde’s chin nearly dripped with her arousal, and it sent shockwaves to her core. She bit her lip to keep from moaning, realizing that Clarke wanted to ask her something. 

Wanted her permission. 

She felt Clarke’s gentle fingers drag through her soaked length, gathering wetness before running circles around her pulsing clit. She swallowed thickly, nodding her head towards the sultry blonde between her legs before closing her eyes again, settling back on the pillow. She wanted this more than anything. She wanted to feel Clarke everywhere she could. She suddenly felt empty without her. 

Without warning, Clarke dove back down, returning to her brutal pace and relentless patterns, wrestling a violent sob from Lexa’s candied lips. 

“Please, Clarke...please.” Lexa choked her desperation as she felt her eyes roll back into her head at a particularly interesting shape between her legs. She felt sparks shoot across her eyelids as she tasted her release, legs shaking against Clarke’s eager hands that held them as firm as possible. Clarke felt her jaw ache, though with each throaty moan and stiff cry she heard from the beautiful girl above her, with each scrape of a dull fingernail against her scalp, the pain in her bones dissipated, her only goal to make Lexa come. 

Slowly, she inched her hand downwards to the girl’s dripping opening, pushing two fingers inside without slowing her tongue. She felt Lexa tense for just a moment, and she paused, letting the girl relax into the new sensation. Once she felt Lexa rock her hips against her mouth, she immediately got the message. She pushed in to the knuckle, feeling the brunette’s silk walls flutter around her, pulling her in deeper. She sighed into Lexa’s sex, the hot air making the Commander squirm. 

“Gods, Clarke, please...I’m so close. Please, Clarke, please make me come.” Lexa rambled, her continuous slew of uncensored thoughts endearing to Clarke, dripping like gold through her ears. She felt pride swell in her chest at her ability to reduce the strong Heda into a shivering pile of desperation. The Commander begged no one: yet here she was, with a girl’s face shoved lewdly between her legs, fingers deep inside of her, and her words a never-ending stream of solicitation. Behind Lexa’s  eyelids, she felt nothing but the brink of her collapse. Between her legs, she felt nothing but the tenderness of Clarke’s love. 

It was Clarke’s love that shot her into the cosmos. It was Clarke’s love that caused her to cry and scream and thrash against the disheveled sheets below her. It was Clarke’s love that she saw as a blinding white light flashing behind her eyelids. 

It was Clarke’s love that brought her back down to earth. 

Clarke kissed Lexa’s lower lips before dragging her mouth back up her abdomen, pressing lazy kisses along the brunette’s quivering stomach. She unwrapped her hand from around Lexa’s thigh and pulled out from Lexa’s slick heat, running her palms up her sides and bracing her elbows on either side of Lexa’s head, kissing the Commander’s forehead and cheekbones and the tips of her ears, drawing a childish giggle from the back of Lexa’s throat. The sound nearly crippled Clarke as she felt the air leave her lungs. A giggle was a first. A genuine, carefree laugh felt better than Lexa’s warm skin beneath her fingertips. It felt better than kissing her. It felt better than coffee. 

“Hey,” Clarke murmured against Lexa’s chestnut hair, her voice sweet and smooth against Lexa’s ears. The brunette grinned lazily, coming down from her high just to float back up as she felt Clarke’s strong arms around her body and her lips against her neck. 

Clarke smirked against Lexa’s skin as she felt the girl’s pulse slow beneath her lips. She kissed her way back up, pressing gently against the underside of Lexa’s exposed jaw, drawing a sigh from the Commander above her. Lexa turned her head when she felt Clarke’s lips against her cheek, politely asking her to open her eyes. 

Green met blue, land crashing into sea, and both girls smiled hopelessly. “How are you feeling?” Clarke asked, her voice husky with want. Lexa just closed her eyes again before wrapping her arms around Clarke’s shoulders and flipping their positions. Lexa rolled Clarke’s body, settling her weight on top of the curious blonde. Reaching up with shaking fingers, Lexa brushed a stray hair out of Clarke’s eyes and tucked it behind her ear lovingly. She brought her lips down to Clarke’s eyebrow, kissing the corners and down to her eyelids, cresting across the bridge of the blonde’s nose. She breathed in the smell of Clarke; the smell of earth and wildflowers and sea salt. She felt high on the feeling of having the blonde in her arms, the first time without walls built between them. She nodded gently against Clarke’s cheek, pressing a kiss to the bottom of her ear before roaming towards her neck. She reveled in hearing desperate sighs from beneath her lips. She welcomed the heady breaths that warmed her cheek as she showed appreciation to the blonde’s smooth collarbones, dragging a tentative tongue along the base of her neck. She felt warm hands drift cautiously up her heated back, dragging uncalloused fingers through the divots in her spine, sinking her hands into the chasm of Lexa’s back. 

“You’re so beautiful, Clarke,” Lexa murmured against Clarke’s chest. Hands tangled themselves into chocolate locks. 

“People say we’re made from the stars.” A tentative swipe against Clarke’s breast, earning a hearty moan as reward.

“I don’t think that’s true.” A tender kiss between the valley of her breasts, the feeling of Clarke’s heartbeat against Lexa’s trembling lips. 

“The truth is, I’ve never seen a star shine as brightly as you.” Red bruises peppered Clarke’s alabaster skin like lipstick kisses, drawing closer to her navel. Clarke whimpered under her compassionate touches, feather-light against her stomach. 

Lexa hooked her slender fingers into the waistband of Clarke’s sweatpants, dragging her lips down as she removed the offensive clothing. She wanted to see Clarke for all that she was, without any barriers to fight through. 

She tapped the side of Clarke’s thigh, and Clarke helped Lexa take the pants off of her completely, the thick material joining the rest of their clothes on the floor. Lexa wasted no time in lining her body up with Clarke’s, their chests together, heartbeats echoing. Clarke wrapped a firm hand around Lexa’s neck, bringing her down to her lips with a whimper. Lexa conceded, granting the blonde anything she wanted. She would always give Clarke whatever she wanted. 

Lexa snaked her right hand between the sky girl’s shaking thighs, a pool of heat radiating from her core. Lexa blinked the arousal forming a cloud in her eyes, determined to focus all of her energy on Clarke and Clarke alone. 

The brunette ran her fingers through Clarke’s wet heat, earning a low moan as reward. She smiled against Clarke’s lips before dropping her mouth back to Clarke’s enticing neck. The blonde turned her head, allowing the Commander more access to her inviting skin, fingers gripping tightly at Lexa’s shoulders. She nearly bucked into Lexa’s teasing hand as her fingers reached her clit, drawing languid circles around the stiffening bud. 

“I would give you the world if I could,” Lexa whispered against her neck. Clarke felt the words settle into her bones, drawing tears from the corners of her eyes as she breathed a heavy sigh against Lexa’s shoulder, feeling the space between them grow slimmer with every breath they took. 

Clarke was a woman of the earth, a child of the stars. Her eyes whispered galaxies, tales of the cosmos, as her skin grew flowers where there once was scars. The girl flung from the stratosphere felt grounded by tender kisses of the girl she desired to love with everything she had. 

She felt Lexa’s pace grow faster, rubbing tighter circles between her thighs. Her whimpers became gasps and her gasps became moans, her teeth sinking into the skin of Lexa’s bare shoulder. Lexa hissed into the blonde’s neck but endured the pain, her heart fluttering with desire and her her eyes swimming with lust. 

Lexa dipped her fingers towards Clarke’s entrance, stilling for only a moment. 

“Lexa, please.” Hearing Clarke beg, her mouth moving against her skin, sent a strike of lightning through Lexa’s spine. It crippled her, and if she hadn’t been laying down, she was sure it would’ve knocked her to the floor. 

Her fingers pushed into Clarke, feeling her walls clench tightly at the intrusion. She paused, just as Clarke had done with her, whispering sweet nothings against the shell of Clarke’s ear, kissing up her temple. After Clarke began to whimper, turning her head to capture the brunette’s lips in a blazing kiss, Lexa began to thrust faster, feeling the blonde’s warmth wrap around her hand in a loving embrace. 

Clarke’s nails dug deep into Lexa’s skin, leaving scratches down her back. Lexa felt her forearm burn, her breathing heavy, the room growing hotter around them. She felt the girl below her tense, the moans growing higher in pitch. Lexa thrusted deeper, curling her fingers at the back, eliciting a scream from the blonde’s lips. 

“Clarke.” Lexa spoke in a hushed tone, her pace never slowing. Clarke was dragged from inside of herself at the sound of her own name, her eyes fluttering open to look at Lexa. She struggled to keep her gaze, the wave inside of her stomach nearly ready to crash. 

“It’s okay, Clarke. I’ve got you,” Lexa whispered with a smile, sensing the girl closing in on her impending orgasm. The air became static around them as Clarke nearly begged for release. 

“I’ve always got you,” Lexa muttered, leaning down to kiss Clarke’s trembling lips before curling her fingers once more. 

Clarke gasped, breaking her lips from Lexa’s as she tumbled over the edge, a branding heat spreading like wildfire beneath her skin, the tops of her thighs going considerably numb. Within seconds, she was gasping for air as she tried to come down. 

The feeling of Lexa’s strong arms, the feeling of her warm kisses against her skin, the feeling of her devotion with every inhale. It all became too much for Clarke. 

As tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, as she tightened her grip around Lexa’s shoulders, hanging on for dear life, she felt the words leave her mouth before she heard them. 

“I love you, Lexa.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it took so long. I've really been putting this off. I was terrified of it becoming gratuitous and smut scenes are hard for me to write sometimes. Hopefully it's okay, let me know what you think if you're still reading this. 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	12. I Love You, I'm Sorry

The sound of rain was gentle, a string quartet with harmonizing violins as a cello veiled the sound of rolling thunder. The girls had no plans to get out of bed any time soon. 

Lexa laid in the center of the bed, her eyes closed and turned upwards towards the ceiling. Her breath was coming slow and peaceful, her chest rising and falling under Clarke’s head. Her slender fingers drew circles along Clarke’s bare spine, feeling the dimples in her lower back and the divots in her spine. Clarke was laying with her head pressed to Lexa’s chest, desperate to hear the Commander’s steady heartbeat. Her arms were wrapped around the brunette’s waist, a strong leg strewn lazily over Lexa’s. The duvet was pulled haphazardly around them, covering just below their waists and nothing more. 

Clarke felt herself lulled to sleep by the rain and the sound of Lexa’s heart, lethargic but deafening. She pressed her lips to Lexa’s sternum, running a hand up Lexa’s side, brushing over the trails blazed with scars and the deep valleys of her ribcage. Lexa hummed her approval, shivering under Clarke’s soothing touch. Clarke giggled against her skin, her hand never slowing. Now that she had gotten a taste of Lexa’s skin, she remained constantly hungry. 

With that thought, she felt the emptiness of her stomach for the first time that morning. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

“We should go get more food,” Clarke whispered. She placed a quick kiss to Lexa’s shoulder before moving to pull herself from Lexa’s sleepy hold around her waist. 

Suddenly, the arms around her tightened. Clarke froze, scanning Lexa’s face. 

“Shhh…” the brunette hushed, her hold on Clarke’s waist remaining strong. Clarke smiled, her eyes shining with adoration. She leaned in, giving a quick kiss to the corner of Lexa’s mouth, before settling back down, nestling her head into the crook of the Commander’s neck. She felt Lexa relax, her arms going slack again, satisfied with Clarke’s choices. 

“Tell me about Costia,” Clarke muttered, using a single finger to draw shapes across the plane of Lexa’s chest. Lexa opened her eyes, blinking the sleep from her lids, fixed on the ceiling above them. She wished she was looking at the sky. She wished the clouds and the birds could distract her from the words tumbling from her lover’s lips. Actually, she wished the roof would just collapse on them instead. 

She squeezed her right hand against Clarke’s hip reassuringly, letting the blonde know she wasn’t angry when she spoke her next words. 

“There’s nothing to tell, Clarke.” Her voice was stern, finalizing her thoughts. It was more of a demand than a response; a demand that Clarke not bring it up. Especially not like this, naked in the same bed with nowhere to escape. She felt Clarke nod against her chest. 

Clarke knew she wasn’t going to be able to pull anything else out of Lexa. She desperately wanted to know more about the mysterious Commander, wanted to hear the stories of the brunette’s scars whispered against her lips; both inside and out. She sighed, surrendering to the hopeful fantasy that she would, in time, be able to drag the most private parts of Lexa’s soul out into the open. She held onto that hope with white knuckles and put the thought away for later. 

They remained silent, the only sounds coming from the gentle water lashing against the roof. Clarke’s head moved up and down in time with Lexa’s chest, feeling her eyelids grow heavier and heavier. This was the most relaxed she had been in months, and she was drunk on the feeling that resonated through her bones. 

“I love you too, you know,” Clarke heard Lexa mumble against the crown of her head. She smiled against Lexa’s skin, turning her chin upwards to place a gentle kiss to Lexa’s neck. The girl was warm beneath her, blushing no doubt. The thought of the almighty Commander feeling flustered and blushing profusely gave her chills. The thought that she was the one holding that power made her stomach twist with satisfaction. 

“I know,” Clarke murmured against dark skin, taking a deep breath as she tightened her hold around Lexa’s middle. 

An echoing sound, larger than the sound of thunder, pulled both girls from within themselves and sent them into a fit of childish giggles. Both of their stomachs were growling ferociously, begging to be fed again. Clarke went to move, wiggling her way out of Lexa’s grasp. This time, the brunette didn’t fight it, feeling a familiar cramp in her abdomen as well. 

Lexa swung her bare legs over the side of the bed, resting her feet against the floor, wiggling her toes as she stretched her aching shoulders. Before she could move to stand, she was knocked back with a soft ‘ _ oof _ ’ as a comforting weight settled over her stomach. She blinked in stunned silence, her eyes trying to focus on the figure above her. When her vision was clouded by a veil of light blonde hair, she grinned furiously, wrapping her own arms around Clarke’s waist. Without warning, her wrists were grabbed in a strong hold and forced back into the mattress above her head. The shift in dominance, the portrayal of strength, the darkening of cornflower into deep ocean--it all drove Lexa wild. 

Clarke leaned down with her bottom lip captured between her teeth, her eyes drinking in the sight of Lexa’s body beneath hers. She leaned down and melded her lips with the brunette’s, not wanting to waste a single moment. Their kiss turned into a passionate dance; with each tentative stroke of a tongue came unsaid devotion and a driving lust. 

Clarke separated their kiss when she felt her skin flush, a familiar feeling burrowing deep between her thighs. She cleared her throat and watched giddily as Lexa tried to control her own breathing. 

“Let’s go get some food.” 

Clarke backed away, letting go of Lexa’s wrists and moving towards the pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed. Lexa nearly screamed her frustrations but instead, she closed her eyes, focusing on getting enough air into her lungs and smothering the fire in her stomach. 

Clarke dressed quickly, throwing the other clothes at Lexa, who remained stoic on the bed. She wrapped a slender hand around the door knob, throwing a suggestive look towards the Commander, earning a disapproving huff, before moving out into the hallway towards the kitchen. 

_ Nothing but a tease _ , Lexa thought to herself with a loving smile. 

 

********************

 

Lexa felt happy. For the first time in months, Lexa felt a flowerbed bloom between the notches of her spine. Her happiness was formed arbitrarily, and she had no idea which gods to thank for her blessings. The girl painted with stardust and crafted from clay hushed her “I love you’s” into Lexa’s ears, and they were left still ringing with bewilderment. 

Lexa watched dopily as Clarke moved around the colorless kitchen, trying to reach any snacks she could from her height. Though she found nothing but crackers and cereals, she was thrilled with her success, beaming at Lexa with her tongue between her teeth. Lexa swore she hadn’t taken a single breath of air until that moment. 

They walked back in comfortable silence, Lexa shouldering the blonde every once in a while after a teasing look or suggestive comment. They walked past the dining room, and though the brunette remained blissfully unaware of their surroundings, Clarke stopped. 

She tightened her grip on the food in her hands, feeling a lump settle in her throat like coal. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stare. Through happy moments and whispered devotions, she still couldn’t shake the images from her mind, the feeling from her bones. It didn’t matter if the sun stopped shining. It didn’t matter if the earth stopped spinning. It didn’t matter if the air was sucked from the world or if Clarke was launched back into space; she was still a murderer, and that haunted her more than anything else ever could. 

“Clarke?” Lexa asked with curiosity in her voice. She had stopped when she realized Clarke was no longer trailing behind her, turning around to see the blonde standing at the entryway to the dining room. She approached slowly, not wanting to startle the girl. It was obvious that Clarke was somewhere else, pain etched into the lines of her face. 

Clarke was lost within herself. As she stared out towards the dining room, towards the massacre she had spent the entire night ignoring, it made the healing wound in her leg ache with guilt; guilt that she was still alive and they were not. Guilt that she faltered, that she collapsed under the weight of weakness and made love to the girl that forced her to pull the lever. The girl that kissed her in a grounder tent and made her feel butterflies for the first time since Finn. The girl that rescued her from savages and would lay down her life to save Clarke’s. 

Clarke felt her stomach roll as the feelings within her clashed and waged war in her chest. It was only a few days ago when she hated Lexa, when she almost left her to die in the hands of a reaper. Why the sudden change? Why the burst of love? Why did she suddenly feel heat bloom through her chest like water lilies when Lexa brushed her hand or sent her a cheesy grin? Why did Lexa’s voice send a calm wave down her spine like a gentle, sunset ocean? 

As Clarke stared at the bodies laying before her, the bodies she spent the entire night ignoring, she felt her head grow tight with conflict. As much as she hated Lexa, a single thought kept burrowing its way back into her mind, sinking their hooks into her; a thought born from the afternoon of their first kiss:

Regardless of how Clarke felt now, she had kissed Lexa back that day. 

A soothing hand on her shoulder made Clarke flinch back into reality, pulled from her own mind within seconds. 

“Clarke?” Lexa asked again. She was knelt on the floor beside the blonde, searching her eyes for answers but coming up empty-handed. Clarke had on a mask with layers thicker than the earth’s crust, and she felt concern bubble deep within her heart. 

Without thinking, Clarke turned her head and shrugged Lexa off, letting the brunette’s hand fall limply to her side. 

This was all too much. Clarke felt like a bomb was ticking down in her chest, and she had no way to stop the explosion. She couldn’t breathe. 

It was weak of her to sleep with Lexa, it was weak of her to admit her feelings out loud, and it was weak of her to let her knees shake with the thought of Lexa’s candied lips against her neck or the soft whimpers the girl made with a smile in her sleep. She felt confusion bubble beneath the surface of her skin, and when Lexa touched her, it felt like firecrackers. 

“I just-I need to be...alone, for a bit,” Clarke muttered under her breath, voice tense with frustration. She felt like she couldn’t escape. Everywhere she looked, Lexa was there, always offering a hand or begging to help in any way she could with pitiful, puppy-dog eyes. It ripped Clarke’s heart to shreds. 

Lexa nodded, still stunned at Clarke’s innate reaction. She watched as Clarke rose to her feet, and without so much as a second glance, turned to walk towards the room in silence. 

Shock and hurt filled the air with an electric energy that made tears pulse behind Lexa’s eyelids. She couldn’t read Clarke, for the first time in days. Usually an open book, Clarke displayed herself with decorative words and spilled ink, confessing a truth about her soul that her lips couldn’t voice. 

Ever so caring, ever so patient, Lexa waited a few minutes before following Clarke down the hallway with tentative footsteps and sweaty palms. 

 

********************

 

The door creaked as Lexa turned the knob, pushing it open as slowly as she could. Clarke stood facing the bed, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Clarke, please talk to me love,” Lexa whispered. She was cautious about letting the pet name slip through her lips, but she wanted to sound as exposed as she could, letting Clarke know she wasn’t a threat.

Clarke nearly threw up at the sound of Lexa’s voice. Why couldn’t she give her a reason to be angry? Why did she always remain so kind and gentle, no matter what? She felt like a fool, to fall for someone who had risked everything for her own people, putting Clarke in danger. 

She felt sick knowing she had confessed her love to the girl who had let her down so many times in the past. 

She felt stupid for forgiving her anyway. Gods, did she forgive her. For everything.

Clarke’s spine was trembling, her voice shaking like fall leaves when she spoke. Lexa could barely hear the words, only hearing the confusion and the frustration that laced itself through every syllable. 

“Do you even care?” Clarke spat through gritted teeth, tears ripping at the corners of her eyes. She refused to look at Lexa. If she looked at Lexa, she knew she would falter. 

If Lexa wasn’t going to give Clarke a reason to be angry, Clarke would create a reason herself. 

“About?” Lexa questioned, frozen to the floor, eyes clinging to Clarke’s every tiny movement. 

“Them. The people here. Do you even care about what you did?” Clarke swallowed. “What you made me do?”

Lexa sighed quietly, lowering her gaze. It was silly of her to forget that Clarke would still be upset, that she had a right to still be upset. After months of psychological torment, the girl had every right to feel anger and guilt and sadness; Lexa was just crushed that Clarke still blamed  _ her _ for everything. 

“Of course I do, Clarke. But in order to move on, we have to-”

“Weakness.” Clarke uttered, interrupting Lexa with a choked word and a fire in her eyes. She turned to face Lexa with tears running down her face freely now. Lexa felt her heart shatter like glass, but made no motion to comfort her. She wanted Clarke to have her space, wanted Clarke to have anything she desired. She was forced to watch as the girl before her unraveled into the barest parts of her soul without so much as a reassuring touch that it was okay to do so. 

“I can’t do this, Lexa. I can’t,” Clarke whispered, her voice dripping with despair. “You...you left me at the mountain. You said...you said I would’ve done the same. You abandoned me, Lexa.” 

Clarke suddenly sobered at the recollection of Lexa walking away from her, blood caked into her face and spine straight as an arrow. Her eyes, piercing and deep, never wavering through her callousness. Rage bubbled in Clarke’s chest, a monsoon of emotions. 

“You’re not sorry, I know you’re not.” Clarke’s mouth was an automatic weapon and her finger was on the trigger. 

“You’re not sorry about any of it. How could you be? You were right at home when you betrayed me.” She loaded the magazine.

“Death surrounds you, Lexa.” She cocked the gun. 

“How could I think you were actually sorry when you never even showed a little sympathy towards Costia’s death?” She pulled the trigger. 

To Lexa, the words tasted like broken glass; to Clarke, they tasted like ascendancy. 

“You have no right here, Lexa.” Clarke moved forward, a predatory glare painted across her face. Lexa swallowed her words that she so desperately wanted to rebuttal with, and with each step the blonde took forwards, Lexa took a step backwards. 

“You told me love was weakness. Is that what you are, Commander? Are you weak?” 

Lexa’s facade gave way, shattering into a million pieces. She saw rage in Clarke’s eyes as she stared at the blonde, yet something was hidden deep within them. A gentle spark, the smallest of pleas, a desperation Lexa had learned to read through cornflower eyes. 

Clarke was egging her on.  _ On purpose. _

Lexa felt her lungs collapse, her heart break, as she recognized the same lost look in Clarke’s eyes as the one she saw that fateful night. Clarke was angry. Not only angry, but bitter and spiteful and filled to the brim with regret. Through the dense forest of Clarke’s rage, Lexa saw a hint of sadness: guilt, love, lust, and remorse carved into tree trunks with a sharp knife. 

Clarke needed to _ feel  _ something, anything she could. Anything that could hide her true feelings and could make herself feel better. Clarke needed to experience a high to distract her from the world she so carefully built crashing around her in splintered pieces. Whatever Clarke wanted, whatever she needed, Lexa was willing to bend and break to give it to her.

Without hesitation, Lexa wrapped slender fingers around the blonde’s waist, turning them quickly and slamming her lithe body against the wood of the door with a resounding thud. Clarke felt the air leave her lungs, and she felt starved for air as Lexa’s lips quickly engulfed her own in a frenzy. Without thinking, Clarke kissed her back, nipping at her lip and clutching at her covered spine. 

“Bed,” Clarke gasped against Lexa’s mouth. Lexa grabbed her waist with brutal hands that held firm with reassurance and guided them backwards towards the bed. The brunette felt her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and she sat quickly, pulling Clarke into her lap and holding her tightly against her chest. 

Clarke reached down with shaking hands, curling her fingers beneath the cloth of Lexa’s shirt and pulling upwards, exposing the Commander to the cool air of the room around them before doing the same to her own shirt. 

Skin met skin, quickly and wantonly, and both girls melted into each other like wax from a burning candle. 

Through all of the tears and all of the anger, each kiss still held hope of allegiance. Each swipe of a tongue shaved off pieces of Lexa’s heart, reducing her to a shell for Clarke to use as she pleased. She wanted Clarke to take everything but she knew she didn’t have much left to give. Lexa felt the heat of Clarke’s tears, the saddened pressure of the blonde’s body against her own, but her inner servility driven by love commanded that she do nothing but watch as the beautiful angel before her clipped her wings and collapsed against Lexa’s tentative touch. 

Lips became tongue and tongue became teeth that nipped both spite and apologies into tan skin like it was the only thing they knew how to do. Lexa whimpered under the control, her own dominant self now a fallacy as she sat marbled in Clarke’s shaking hands. Through the stinging pain and the lingering marks that rose to her skin like heat from a burn, Lexa knew she would still bend heaven and earth just to see Clarke smile like she once did. If that meant taking punishment, so be it. She knew they would be better for it in the end. 

Clarke reached up a hand, pushing against Lexa’s shoulder, ushering her to lie back. Lexa looked to Clarke, trying desperately to meet her gaze. She felt her stomach twist in knots when Clarke refused to look at her out of sadness, instead drifting her lips down to Lexa’s clavicle. 

The brunette settled herself on her back against the mattress, feeling Clarke slip a hand to the waistband of her pants, pulling down with an unmatched urgency. Lexa wiggled, helping Clarke take the pants off with ease, before presenting herself fully vulnerable in front of the girl yet again. It ripped at her throat and caused a sting in her eyes to be so open in front of a girl that had yet to look at her again, but when Clarke finally did drift her blue eyes up to meet Lexa’s, the Commander soon wished she didn’t have a heart worth breaking. 

Swimming with tears, Clarke’s eyes held a sadness so palpable Lexa felt as if she could reach out and grab it. The girl who held the world in her hands, the girl born from revelation and living as a divine, exuded catharsis through the tips of the fingers that ghosted across the skin of Lexa’s thigh. The way she looked towards the Commander could only be described as a heart-wrenching mirage of love grasped firmly in the fist of an unmatched treachery. She looked pitiful as she stared across Lexa’s naked frame, her anger subsiding into sadness once again. 

_ I need this,  _ the ocean blue seemed to plead. 

Lexa offered the blonde a gentle smile, a shy twitch of her lips. 

“I know,” she whispered back. 

Clarke stared into Lexa’s green eyes shining with tears, asking a silent permission before indulging in the most vapid form of therapy she could fathom. 

Without hesitation, without so much as a question lingering against locked lips, Lexa nodded, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye. She reached out with shaking hands, her fingertips grazing against the skin of Clarke’s hips, begging her to move forward, to feel her body, to kiss her again. Clarke swallowed, moving to lie between Lexa’s legs. She kissed down the column of Lexa’s throat, and the tenderness made Lexa whimper beneath the weight of Clarke’s unspoken words. The blonde reached a hand between Lexa’s thighs and the world erupted into stars. 

As Clarke coaxed Lexa down from her high, kissing every surface of Lexa’s skin she could find beneath her lips, the room was filled with repeated words that rang in Clarke’s ears and sang melodies of hope. 

_ “I love you.” _

_ “I’m sorry.” _

_ “I love you.”   _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented their concerns, you were all so polite and I cannot thank you enough for that. I didn't redo the chapter completely, those of you that read the one I deleted will see that. Instead, I changed the central theme of the part many felt uncomfortable with. This feels better to me, and hopefully it feels better to you guys as well.  
> If you still don't love this chapter...please wait! I have plans for the next chapter that will wrap up the story nicely. If you still feel as if this isn't a good portrayal of the characters, I'm sorry to have disappointed, but hopefully you can wait to read the next chapter to make that decision.  
> As always, never be afraid to let me know your thoughts so far. 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


	13. Until Our Final Journey

This time, things were different. They felt different. They looked different.

Instead of wrapping around each other, tangling sweaty limbs together in perfect contentment, the girls took their own positions away from each other, nearly an arm’s length away. The tension was thick like cement between them, and they refused to meet eyes. As Lexa sat with her knees pulled to her chest, resembling a petulant child more than a rational woman, Clarke sat with her feet placed firmly on the floor, lowering all of her weight to her heels as if in fear she might float away. Her spine was tense, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress on either side of her. Her golden locks melted over her shoulder and shielded her face from Lexa...if the brunette would even dare look at her. 

The nakedness of them both was sobering, making their skin crawl. Clarke felt needles prick against the back of her neck as the weight of her actions settled deep within her stomach like a rock. She used sex as therapy, pleaded with Lexa that she feel something other than anger and pain. She bartered and used the woman she loved the most in the world to distract from her own internal demons that had a sole intention of crippling her whenever given an opportunity. Most importantly, Lexa let her. 

It spoke volumes to both of them, feelings they couldn’t voice exposing themselves to each other regardless. Clarke knew Lexa cared for her; she could see it in the way the brunette’s gaze seemed to never break from Clarke’s slender fingers, and the way Clarke’s throaty laugh made Lexa’s chest stutter with gasping breath, like she had been tripped and was desperate for air. Despite the knowledge Clarke had, despite knowing Lexa’s physical reactions to the girl, Clarke finally felt the depths of Lexa’s love, just how large the wave of her adoration grew before crashing to shore. It scared her while also releasing butterflies into her stomach, and the conflict alone terrified Clarke more than anything. Because Clarke had taken advantage of that. 

It was the second day, and they should be leaving soon. Clarke knew they had to go, knew they couldn’t stay here forever, even though a small part of her wanted nothing more than to spend eternity in private with the Commander, just to spite the fear that bubbled in her chest at the idea of something so wildly domestic. 

Clarke felt like she couldn’t breathe, sitting in the same room as the brunette she felt she had bated into devotion. She felt sick with herself, and the sheen of sweat now drying on her pale skin in a paste made bile rise in her throat. 

As much as Lexa hurt her, and as much as she hurt Lexa back, Clarke couldn’t deny the way her heart raced with every shy look from deep green eyes. The angel and devil sat proudly on her shoulder, arguing incessantly, and she couldn’t escape the noise. 

Clarke rose from the bed, refusing to look towards Lexa as she strode weakly to the bathroom, grabbing a shirt and panties on her way. She closed the door quickly, pulling on the clothes that smelled so strongly of the Commander. Clarke could feel the tears in her eyes spilling over her cheekbone, dripping to the floor. 

There was no denying that she used Lexa, and regardless of how she felt, that was never okay. It was something she had condemned the brunette for for months, the hypocrisy now slapping her in the face. They were now even - in the most painful, brutal way possible. 

Clarke felt guilt claw at her throat with talons that grew longer with each thought of love she had. She had an overwhelming urge to go back into the bedroom, to kiss Lexa all over, to apologize profusely and put the past behind her like she thought she had before. Instead, her knees shook as she moved towards the sink, turning on the faucet and feeling the cool water run through her fingertips before she held her face between her hands. 

The noise in her head grew louder, the arguments more intense. Voices cried  _ “she hurt you”  _ and  _ “what makes you think she won’t betray you again”, _ a more dominant voice claiming  _ “she deserved to be used the way she used you to save her people” _ . It made Clarke sick to her stomach, and she felt a choked sob rip from her throat. 

_ “But you love her,”  _ came something soft spoken. “She loves you more than anything, give her a chance to make things right.” Clarke sighed into her palms, trying desperately to calm her breathing. She was too focused on the beating of her heart to hear the door open behind her. 

“Clarke.” The voice was husky, dripping with unspoken sadness and layered with question. Clarke turned quickly, finding Lexa standing in the doorway, dressed in her black shirt and nothing more. Thankfully, it dropped well below her naked hips, but Clarke forced herself to focus on something else. 

The girl had her long brown hair swept to one side over her shoulder, her neck more exposed. The skin was littered with bruises and red marks bright like paint, and Clarke felt her stomach churn. Lexa, however, remained her usual stoic self, except for the hands placed in front of her, locked together, moving nervously. Before Clarke could speak, Lexa took a step towards the blonde, and in one fluid motion, dropped to her knees without looking away from Clarke’s bright blue eyes. She settled on her knees, shifting her weight to get comfortable, her back straight and unwavering. Clarke felt motionless, she felt her bones lock beneath muscle. 

The mighty Commander, the girl that radiated strength and dignity above all else, fell to her knees for another without being asked. Clarke felt heat creep to her skin, flushing her cheeks as she stared down in awe, forcing herself to stay silent. 

“I swear fealty to you, Clarke kom Skaikru. I vow to treat your needs as my own, and your people as my people.” Green eyes were shining with tears, lips trembling through the words spilling from them. 

“Lexa, I-” Clarke stammered, desperate to apologize, to say anything that could save them now. 

“No, Clarke. I need you to believe me.” Lexa’s voice cracked slightly, but she remained strong, commanding the room around them. The world crumbled away, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble with nothing to disturb it. 

“I understand what I did hurt you. I know it was wrong of me. I know I shouldn’t have done it, I should’ve trusted you. But I also know you’re trying to forgive me. What happened this morning was a mistake, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

Clarke swallowed her agreement down, letting Lexa speak her mind freely. Lexa took a shaking breath, eyes closing in focus. This was one of the hardest things she’d ever done; though every bone in her body screamed at her to stand up, to be angry, to leave the Mountain and forget Clarke for good, a pleading voice in her heart had other ideas. 

“What you saw...it hurt you all over again. I understand, Clarke. More than most. I...I would really like to try again. I want you to know I’m real, Clarke. I need you to know that this?” Lexa gestured between them with a lazy hand, her knees starting to ache. “I need you to know that this is real. I want this to be real.” 

Clarke couldn’t hold back her tears. It felt impossible, like damming the bottom of a waterfall instead of the river it came from. She reached out a shaking hand to the girl on her knees, offering everything she could through shaking fingertips: every butterfly, every sigh, every whisper of love in the dark. Gladly, Lexa took it, wrapping their fingers together, rising to her feet. 

Without question, without hesitation, Clarke lunged forward, melting Lexa’s lips into her own. She felt weightless, floating helplessly against the guilt and the anger that left her body begrudgingly. The voices on her shoulders stopped bickering, only to be replaced by the warmth of the last remaining angel. 

Lexa gasped against Clarke’s lips, tasting salt between every kiss. Before her brain became fuzzy, Lexa pulled away, leaving Clarke stunned and silent. 

“I meant what I said, Clarke. I love you. I’ll prove it to you every day if I have to,” she pleaded, her eyes honest and wide. Clarke let out a sob, letting it rip through her chest as she pulled Lexa as close as she could, settling her head above the Commander’s fluttering heart. 

“I-I’ve been so cruel to you,” Clarke admitted, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.  She felt Lexa chuckle throatily under her ear, and felt the brunette’s slender finger tip her chin upwards, meeting her gaze. 

“And my feelings towards you have never stopped,” Lexa reassured her with a gentle smile, a soft twitch at the corners of her lips. Clarke felt breathless, butterflies turning to birds with long feathers and swooping motions in her stomach. She wrapped a tender hand around the back of Lexa’s neck, feeling the baby hairs between her fingers, watching the brunette shiver at her touch. She felt warmth spread through her chest like wildfire as she realized she wanted to do everything in her power to make Lexa shiver like that for the rest of her life. 

For the rest of  _ their _ lives. 

Clarke pulled Lexa’s lips back towards hers. Before they connected, just barely touching, Lexa felt a whispered breath over her mouth, drawing tears from the corners of her eyes. 

“I love you Lexa. So much.” 

“I know.”

 

********************

 

The lights in the hallway remained bright, an unwavering white halo settled above them. It took their eyes time to adjust as they stepped from the room, but through fluttering lids and clenched jaws at the shock, they were able to move forward. Clarke managed to keep herself pinned to Lexa’s left side, desperate to avoid seeing the dining room again. Lexa obliged knowingly, wrapping a tight arm around Clarke’s waist as they moved past the room and down another hallway, trying to get to the control room as quickly as possible. 

The door was left open, a tiny crack offering a glimpse of the neon lights inside. Clarke pushed the door open, the heavy creaking filling her ears with an unwanted scream. The monitors flashed above them, camera angles changing and shifting automatically every so often. The girls stared upwards, eyes searching the screens for any sign of movement. 

Clarke felt a tap against the small of her back, and she brought her attention towards Lexa, who pointed towards the top left monitor. On the screen, Clarke saw bodies. Reapers who couldn’t handle their withdrawals, deciding to end their fight instead. The blonde grimaced at the sight, but understood what Lexa meant. 

Even though there were reapers still outside, none seemed to be alive, meaning they could leave through the door they came in without much trouble. This was the best - and possibly only - opportunity they’d been given, and they would be fools not to take it. 

As much as Clarke hated the idea of separating from Lexa, from being anywhere except for the brunette’s side, they needed to return to their families and to their people. Both of them knew this, but it didn’t stop the ache from growing like trees through their veins. 

“We should…” Clarke trailed off, lowering her gaze from Lexa’s, feeling an unfamiliar disappointment sinking into her stomach. 

“Yeah,” Lexa muttered back, her words coming in more of a breath than a voice. The glass around them felt like it was shattering, a tiny crack forming in the corner, spider-webbing its way to the center, daring something to break its pressure. Lexa took a breath before taking Clarke’s hand in hers, intertwining their fingers together, pushing on the glass until it fell to the floor around them in shards of whispered love and private moments. Clarke met Lexa’s gaze, the earth meeting the sea for another moment, before they both turned towards the door and started back down the hallway towards the entrance. 

They walked in silence, the closeness of their shoulders and the heat from their hands the only things that grounded them. Lexa walked with her chin held high as ever; never faltering a step, never releasing her grip around Clarke’s trembling hand. 

The giant steel door loomed above them, the last thing that acted as a divide between tender kisses and war paint. They paused together, feet stopping at the same time. Once they undid that lever, once they turned the handle, everything was over. They would go their separate ways and be without each others company. Clarke turned her cornflower eyes towards Lexa’s, shining with unshed tears as the realization settled over them both like a heavy stone. Lexa kept her lips in a thin line, refusing to speak, refusing to break the fragile world they created for themselves within the mountain. 

“May we meet again,” Clarke whispered, squeezing Lexa’s hand in reassurance. Reassurance that they  _ would _ meet again, that this was not the last time. 

“Come with me.”

Though every voice in Lexa screamed for her to stop, begged her to accept their fate, pleaded that she return to her people and never see Clarke again, she unclenched her jaw and spoke the words that dripped from her tongue without hesitation. 

Clarke looked stunned, leaning back in a heavy mixture of shock and confusion as Lexa’s words settled over her. Lexa watched her eyes flick back and forth, almost as if she were trying to analyze each syllable before creating a response. 

“Come with me, back to Polis. Stay with me, Clarke. I mean it.” Lexa took a breath, her nerves ripping at her throat as she spoke. The silence left between them felt thick and uncomfortable as she waited for Clarke to respond. Through the terror she tried to force down into her chest with every swallow, Lexa saw Clarke’s lips turn up into a wide grin, shining like the sun. It warmed her from inside out and she relaxed her shoulders. 

“Is that a yes?” Lexa asked questioningly, her grin mirroring Clarke’s, squeezing the girl’s hand gently. Clarke only nodded, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to hide the butterflies threatening to fly from her throat if she opened her mouth. 

“We’ll be okay,” Lexa said, mostly to herself as a passing thought. She turned back towards the door, lifting the barricade with both hands before tangling her fingers with Clarke’s yet again, desperate to never go without feeling the blonde’s skin move against hers in any capacity. 

“We’ll be okay,” Clarke whispered back, before turning the knob and pushing the door open, letting the sunlight hit them, burying a warmth in their bones that could almost match the warmth from their love. 

The wildflowers never looked more beautiful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this story and to everyone who stuck with me. I know it could've been better, and I apologize for my horrible writing skills.   
> I'm currently trying desperately to come up with an idea for an AU that people want to see, so if you have any ideas at all, either one-shots or lengthier fics, even if it's just a loose idea or a few sentences thrown together, please PLEASE send me something. I need to start focusing my attention on writing instead of drawing but I have nothing to work with.   
> Until next time. 
> 
> Tumblr: hedadebnamcarey


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